


Lions Share

by Turandot (LostOzian)



Series: P5 Would Be a Better Game if More Days Were Story-Locked So That the Phantom Thieves Could All Cuddle [2]
Category: Persona 5, Persona 5 Royal
Genre: Akechi and Yoshizawa Showtime, Altered Mental States, Character Study, Drama, F/M, Fluffy, Humor, Less jealousy than last time, M/M, More shippy than the last fic, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory, Seriously why didn't they get a showtime, Sort of? - Freeform, Spoilers for P5R/Third Semester, Team Bonding, The Metaverse is weird, You can still read it as platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25118854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostOzian/pseuds/Turandot
Summary: It’s the return of the “charmed” status: the cognitive compulsion to cuddle the charm’s target so potent that it persists outside the Metaverse.The good news is, the charm only hit two people! Unfortunately, January is almost over, and unless the charm breaks soon, the Phantom Thieves will never recover their original reality.Crossing fingers may be all that they can do to survive this multi-day snuggle session.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira & Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira/Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi, Akechi Goro/Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi, Kurusu Akira/Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi
Series: P5 Would Be a Better Game if More Days Were Story-Locked So That the Phantom Thieves Could All Cuddle [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819492
Comments: 151
Kudos: 469





	1. There's rookie mistakes and then there's this

**Author's Note:**

> Some thanks to Mayormccheese for inspiring this! After suggesting a Royal sequel, they provided resources to help me get a handle on Yoshizawa as a character, and basically proved how rich the Royal Trio dynamics could be.
> 
> I also want to mark, it was really hard to keep the romantic element to a minimum in this fic. Akechi and Akira are literally written as narrative foils, and Yoshizawa's feels for Akira are baked more deeply into her confidant than others. No one kisses or confirms attraction beyond “anyone with eyes can tell you’re pretty” so I mention this only because I knew there were readers of Catnip who really appreciated that it stayed platonic. Trust me, I tried. The chemistry was just too strong XD
> 
> So, here's my warning: Lions Share can be read as a platonic OR poly-romantic fic, but it has more romantic-coded content.
> 
> Also, this fic has Spoilers for P5 Royal, but if you are shocked that there’s spoilers in this, I’m not sure why you opened this fic to read it ;P

Sumire wasn’t entirely sure why she ran to Akechi’s side the instant a beam of pink energy downed him. She heard Futaba’s digitized cry, “This is bad! Focus fire on the one that hit Crow!” and her legs moved on her own. He had been nothing but rude to her, their relationship was frosty at best, and he’d scold her for rushing to help when she should be killing the shadow.

And yet, here she was, kneeling beside him and asking, “Crow-san! Are you alright?”

He shook his head a little, and when he looked up at her, his eyes looked hazy behind the red lenses of his mask. Confusion? No, she had seen him confused before. He still looked conscious, but not as sharp. Maybe he was seriously hurt...

Gunshots rang out behind her, so she looked over her shoulder. She could see multiple Personas manifested, casting waves of magic. Akira stood just behind her, like a shield, emptying his pistol’s clip.

_He had the instinct to protect Akechi-san, too?_

Before she had a chance to decide what to do next, the shadow sent forth more bursts of pink energy, missing Ann, missing Yusuke… but hitting Akira. Just like with Akechi, the energy sank into him and he tipped backwards. Sumire reached up, but just as she tried to stand, something wrapped around her waist and pulled her down. Akira fell all the way back, and now all of them—Sumire, Akechi, and Akira—were a heap of coattails and black-clad limbs.

_Senpai is so heavy!_

While she struggled to right herself, she heard Ryuji shout, “I got it!” and Makoto answer, “Good, now for the stragglers!”

It sounded like the rest of the team would be fine, so Sumire asked Akira, “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

Akira pulled himself together enough to look at her. He had the same look in his eyes as Akechi: vague enough to be added, but not so disoriented that he was suffering from confusion.

Then he hugged her.

Sumire let out a squeak. Akira’s head rested on her chest in a gentlemanly place, his cheek planted firmly against her sternum and nothing pressed anywhere lower. But this was Akira, _hugging_ her, in the middle of a battle! She moved her arms to see if she could push Akira off, which proved one more thing.

Akira wasn’t the only one hugging her.

From behind her—underneath her, more accurately—Akechi’s arms had encircled her waist, close to where her rose chain and sword hung. Wait, a pressure around her waist had kept her from standing to help Akira! Was that Akechi’s fault she couldn’t help Akira?

“Crow-san, can you let me go?”

Neither of them reacted to her voice. _What is happening?!_

In the distance, a shadow screamed its last, so the rest of the Phantom Thieves grouped up, standing over Sumire, Akira, and Akechi like giants. Sumire’s face burned with embarrassment as she tried not to meet anyone’s eye. How was she supposed to explain this when she had no idea what was going on? Was she slowing them down, like Akechi always warned her not to do? And she had been fighting so well until now!

“Two charmed teammates?” Morgana asked, tilting his head toward Futaba.

“Yep,” she answered ruefully, tapping the sides of her visor. “And the target is clearly Violet.”

“Are you okay?” Haru asked.

She nodded. When she spoke, her voice went squeakier than she wanted. “Y-Yes! I mean, I think so! Are Crow-san and Senpai okay?”

“They are, but we need to get to a safe room first,” Makoto said. Sumire really appreciated that about Makoto, that she had that reassuring, teacher-like voice.

“We saw one a little bit back,” Ann said. “But how are we going to move them?”

The reassurance that came from Makoto’s tone faded with Ann’s insinuation that Akira and Akechi wouldn’t just let Sumire go when asked. She raised a hand and tapped on Akira’s head for his attention. “Senpai? Can we stand up now, please?”

“Nah.”

Sumire’s eyes widened. “But… we’re lying on the floor in a Palace, with shadows running around?”

“None right now.”

“Don’t bother, Violet,” Ryuji said, strutting over and casually poking his stun baton into Akira’s back. “Take it from us, ‘charm’ turns you into a total moron.”

“You were already a moron,” Morgana quipped.

“Will you shut it, for once?!” He snapped at Morgana, but then turned back to Akira. “C’mon, use your freakin’ ears, dude. You got hit with charm.”

“Mm.”

“Remember how bad it was last fall?” Ryuji insisted. “You gotta let us get you outta here!”

“Wait, this happened before?” Sumire looked to the other Thieves. Most of them shifted nervously under her gaze, but Yusuke met it without shame.

“Six of us succumbed, and Joker was our target. I think he handled our conflicting temperaments very well,” Yusuke explained.

Ryuji continued to vainly poke Akira for his attention. Sumire tried to wriggle a little, reminding herself yet again that she was lying _on top_ of Akechi. Already afraid of the scolding he would give her for being so sloppy in a fight, Sumire asked, “And what does charm do, exactly?”

“A compulsion for physical contact with the target of the charm—which seems to be the first person the victim sees once the spell takes effect,” Morgana said. “And the effect persists outside of the Metaverse.”

It persisted?! Two boys compelled to be in physical contact with her, one of them an upperclassman, and one of them the Detective Prince Goro Akechi?! How was Sumire going to explain this to her coach? Her teachers? Or even her parents?! Her breath started to come in quick gasps. How did this happen!? Why did this happen to _her_?!

From the bottom of the pile, Akechi finally stirred. He bent one of his legs, got purchase against the ground, and _rolled_ himself and Sumire onto their sides. In spite of his hug, Akira toppled off the pile of bodies and finally loosened from Sumire.

“Now!” Haru cried, and the Thieves sprung into action. Yusuke and Makoto heaved Akira up, where Haru put him in a Nelson hold. Ann and Ryuji jumped in to form another barrier, while Morgana scampered to Sumire’s side.

“Do you remember where the safe room is?”

“Y-Yes! I do!”

“Good. Now, hit Crow.”

Sumire wanted to protest, but she felt Akechi lift his head behind her, like he was catching onto the strategy too. Trusting Morgana, she grasped her mask and threw it into the air.

“ _Cendrillon_!”

The beams of blessed light cascaded down over both of them, harmlessly for Sumire and, judging by Akechi’s scream, agonizingly for him. His arms released, so Sumire rolled over her shoulder into a crouch, and then up to her feet as she sprinted back the way they came, down the hallway and around the corner, then down some stairs—why were there so many stairs in Maruki’s Palace?!—until she reached the door to the safe room. She flung herself inside, and when she looked back, she saw Morgana had kept pace.

“Good. Now, we’re only going to have a few seconds,” Morgana stated.

A few seconds? There was so much that Sumire wanted to ask! “How do we fix this?”

“Last time, it wore off after a few days.”

“Days?!”

“We’ll do everything we can to help you. It’s kind of… an awkward reality we’re all going to share for a little while. But it’s going to be okay. Please, believe us.”

“They’re… not going to hurt me?” She couldn’t picture Akira hurting her, but she _had_ just attacked Akechi. She shuddered to imagine his furious retribution.

“The greater concern is whether they’ll hurt each other over you,” Morgana admitted. “Hopefully, with only two of them affected, they’ll be able to share.”

 _Share_. Like Sumire was a piece of cake split down the middle. She wanted to be angrier at the situation, but only shame welled up in her. If she hadn’t gotten in the way, then Akechi and Akira wouldn’t have had the same charm target. Or perhaps Akira wouldn’t have been hit at all if he hadn’t moved to protect her. This was her fault, more people were suffering because of her…

The safe room door flew open. Akira stood in the frame, and Sumire blinked in shock to see his black coat completely gone. The high-collared gray shirt was fitted nearly as well as her leotard, and it looked… really good on him. Really, _really_ good. Her panic vanished long enough for Akira to cross the room and envelop her in a new embrace.

_It’s not fair that Senpai is good at hugs too…_

“Can you hear me, Joker?” Morgana asked from the sidelines, to no response. “Figures.”

With the safe room’s door not fully shut, she heard an echo of Akechi’s scream, “ _Where is she?!”_ Sumire shivered in spite of herself—Akechi screamed at shadows with the same tone—and Akira smoothed her hair, calm and reassuring.

Okay. Deep breaths, Sumire. Morgana said Akechi wouldn’t hurt her. All the Thieves would help her. Akechi and Akira respected each other enough to find a way to share. Just… close her eyes. Focus on Akira’s arms around her. Enjoy what she could and figure out the hard part later.

The door slammed open one more time, and she heard a multitude of footsteps, but… no second set of arms touched her. And no one attacked Akira, either.

“Uh, Crow?” Futaba voiced.

Her heart still pounding in her chest, Sumire peeked over Akira’s shoulder. Akechi had followed to the safe room, as expected, but he stood frozen—actually, shaking slightly—a few feet away from her. The other Thieves kept their distance from him. Sumire saw Joker’s coat in Haru’s hands.

“…Why do I want to touch her?” Akechi’s voice came out strained and furious. “I don’t—We’re not—”

“It’s a status condition—we call it ‘charmed.’ The shadow cast it, but since you saw Violet first, she’s the target of the charm,” Makoto told him.

Sumire couldn’t really read Akechi’s expression, but he… didn’t look good. His trembling body language reminded her of the abused dogs from animal shelter commercials. She took a deep breath, and with Akira still embracing her, she reached a hand toward Akechi.

He still didn’t move.

“Just go hug her, man,” Ryuji said. “It hurts like a bitch to stay away.”

“We’ve all been in your position. You have nothing to prove to us.” Haru added.

Akechi still didn’t move. His posture twisted—leaned forward, arms hugging himself across the front—but he stayed away from Sumire.

 _Well, of course. He hates me, even when he’s charmed._ She cleared her throat, figuring that Akechi would want everyone to stop staring at him. “Regardless, what are we going to do now? Mona-senpai said that the charm effect lasts a long time?”

Futaba tapped her visor again. “Here we go. Duration looks like it’s between twenty-four hours and seven days.”

“But Maruki’s deadline is in seven days,” Makoto said.

“I mean, the last charm ended early, right?” Ann suggested. “About two days total?”

“My calibration is definitely better this time, since I’m not doing the math while blitzed off my brain,” Futaba said. “It won’t be longer than seven days, but the odds of it being the full seven are higher.”

“What will we do if the charm doesn’t break by the deadline?” Haru asked.

Morgana hopped up onto the safe room’s table. “We need to form a strategy. Gather around, everyone.”

The Thieves filed in deeper, and Sumire glanced at Akechi again. His knees had buckled, though he was still standing. He had his face low too for Sumire to see his expression under his mask. Since getting to know the true Akechi, she learned that he hated other people’s pity more than anything. But how was Sumire supposed to feel anything but pity for someone in so much obvious pain?

_Is Haru-senpai right? Is he trying to prove something?_

Whatever the answer was for Akechi, Sumire really should be part of the strategy meeting too. She tapped Akira’s shoulder and whispered to him. “Hey, Senpai? Can we sit at the table with everyone?”

Akira lifted his head. On the bright side, he listened to Sumire's request. On the less-bright side, he did so by lifting her off the floor, sitting on one of the cushion-seats next to the table, and settling Sumire in his lap. Then he leaned right back in, resting his head against her shoulder and closing his eyes like a cat in a sunbeam.

Sumire couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Her mask hid her cheeks, but she felt like her whole body was blushing. “I’m… really sorry about this, I didn’t mean for him to… um…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Inari was worse,” Futaba told her.

“I was not.”

“You were _way_ more insufferable.”

Makoto cleared her throat. “Passing judgment on each other’s responses to charm is not helpful right now. We need to find a way to meet Maruki’s deadline in the event that the charm doesn’t wear off.”

“Well, Joker’s multiple Personas are incredibly helpful, but we haven’t come to over-rely on them, have we?” Haru suggested. “Maybe we can reach the Treasure without Joker, Crow, and Violet.”

“That doesn’t feel right,” Ann said. “We’ve always gone after our targets unanimously. I know we all agree that Dr. Maruki needs a change of heart, but we should take him on together.”

Sumire smiled a little bit, grateful to Ann for arguing to keep them around. After all, Sumire had promised to help, and getting cut out from the team this late in the plan would hurt.

“Is there a way to shorten the duration of the charm?” Yusuke mused. “We didn’t truly experiment with concentrated healing.”

“I’m in favor of trying that, so long as we have enough in reserve for the fight ahead. Joker can decide which recovery items we can spare,” Morgana suggested.

“Does he even know we’re talking about him?” Ryuji asked. “The last time, right after we got hit was just a fog, and then I started feeling mostly like me so long as I was, uh, up in his business?”

“Joker! Peace sign if you’re lucid, on the double!” Futaba demanded.

Akira barely moved, but he flashed a ‘V’ at their navigator. Futaba giggled, and Sumire couldn’t stop a smile either. He really had an effortless cool to him, even in a situation like this.

 _But that means Akechi-san is lucid, too?_ While the rest of the team tried talking directly to their leader about supplies and medicine—Sumire could tell the already-quiet Akira was speaking even less than usual—she looked back at Akechi.

Akechi had crumpled all the way to the floor. His legs stuck out behind him, kind of splayed, and his arms hugged his chest tightly enough that Sumire could see his fingers pulling the fabric of his outfit. He still trembled, like someone had pulled him from a frozen lake.

She twisted back around to the strategy meeting as a small pile of medicine grew in the center of the table. After a quick discussion, the team settled on using ‘all the magic possible,’ because they wouldn’t be making any progress for the rest of the day like this. Might as well use the energy to try and get up and running again.

“Excuse me,” Sumire spoke up. “Can we target all of the healing on Crow-san?”

“Y’think so?” Ryuji asked.

“I think he’s suffering the most from this,” Sumire reasoned.

“True, but would that be best for the group, to break Crow’s charm first?” Haru questioned.

Riding a wave of stress, Sumire kept arguing, “When the three of us were exploring the Palace, Crow-san was an excellent tactician! And he's definitely powerful on the front lines.”

The Thieves looked like they were thinking it over for a second. Sumire felt a touch behind her and jumped a little, before she realized it was just Akira, rubbing her back. It felt kind of… reassuring? She smiled, not sure exactly what to read into the gesture, but sensing it was positive.

“Even if we don't focus healing on him, Crow-san does need at least a little bit of healing... since I attacked him,” Sumire mentioned.

Futaba snickered while Morgana nodded. “I’ll take care of that. But, no objections to Violet’s plan?”

Agreement passed through the table, and everyone with recovery abilities stood up. Ryuji swept the items into his arms to bring over.

Soft and low beside her, Akira spoke up. “Good job.”

“Really? I was so nervous,” she whispered back to him. “How do you lead them so easily?”

“They give me what I need.”

“That’s an odd answer.”

He hummed, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation, because he said, “Your hair smells good.”

Sumire managed to hold in her squeak this time. It was so stupidly unfair that Akira could just _say things_ like that. In the face of having no idea what to do in response, Sumire swapped her attention back to Akechi.

As a healing spell sank into him, his pose changed from ‘prone on the floor’ to ‘kneeling while still shaking like he’d been plunged in ice.’ So that was an improvement, right? It really didn’t look like one. And Sumire still had no idea what kind of tangle of pride was keeping Akechi back when the Thieves had made it excessively clear that the charm _compelled_ physical contact, and it wasn’t his fault.

“So, which first? Alert Capsules or Relax Gels?” Ryuji asked, poking at his armful of medicines.

“Don’t _touch_ me.”

Sumire’s skin prickled on reflex whenever Akechi snarled like that. It helped keep her on her toes in battle, because Akechi usually directed that tone at their enemies. In a way, he made sure Sumire’s adrenaline always responded with ‘fight,’ not ‘flight.’ But this sounded worse, harsher.

“Do you want us to just… leave them in front of you?” Ann suggested.

“I want you to _go_!”

“Wow, the charm hit ten minutes ago, and he’s already reached engine-room levels of crazy,” Futaba said.

Whatever Futaba meant by that, the comment made Akechi lift his head in her direction. “Shut up! _Shut up and die!_ ”

Sumire placed her hand on Akira’s shoulder and squeezed. “Hey. Can I go to him?”

Akira lifted his head, so Sumire nodded in Akechi’s direction. In spite of Morgana’s warning that charm provoked jealousy, she still trusted that Akira would let her go. As soon as Akira actually _looked_ at Akechi, he stood up again, still holding Sumire in that princess carry— _how many pull-ups does he do to be this strong!?_ —and then knelt down on the floor. Finally, Sumire was close enough to touch him. His gaze snapped to Sumire: eyes wild, jaw clenched, and _furious._

Okay. Okay, she could do this.

“Think of it like you’ve caught a cold,” Sumire said. “It’s not wrong to try and feel better when you’re sick.”

Akechi’s mouth opened just a little, but then closed again. His scowl stayed in place. At least he wasn’t contradicting her.

She scooted forward. She felt Akira keep contact with her back, but he did nothing to restrain her. “It’s just medicine. Please.”

She reached out and placed one hand on Akechi’s shoulder. Then the other hand. The trembling in his body eased almost instantly, but his expression stayed tense and angry. She leaned a little closer to join her hands behind his neck, with Akira naturally following the movement to keep himself pressed close to her back.

Then Sumire saw Akira’s hand reach out to touch Akechi’s leg. She only saw that for an instant, because that was what it took to break Akechi’s tangle of pride. He _rushed_ forward at that, all but slamming into Sumire’s front, and thank goodness he angled his face over Sumire’s other shoulder, or his mask would have speared Akira through the eye.

Another Sumire sandwich. She kept her gaze low, nervous about how the others might be looking at her. Did they think she was being shameless? Or did they resent her for incapacitating two other teammates?

But even as she tried to ruminate on her mistake, it was hard to focus. As a gymnast, she usually thought of her body as an instrument that had to be carefully monitored. Her diet, her exercise, her clothing was all for keeping her body in top shape. Here and now, Akira’s body was warm, and Akechi’s embrace so secure.

She hadn’t really _enjoyed_ the body she had until this moment.

“Hey, were you listening?” Akira spoke up.

“Me?” Sumire responded, but Akechi said, “Of course I was listening.” _Right. Senpai meant him._

“So you’re ready?” Akira continued.

“It’s an asinine waste of healing energy.”

“Violet’s logic checks out.”

Sumire patted Akechi’s back a little, hoping it felt as reassuring as when Akira rubbed hers. “Everyone will recover after a good night’s sleep anyway. If there’s even a one-percent chance of success, we should try it.”

Akechi huffed and leaned his head a little more on Sumire’s shoulder. “Fine. Mollify yourselves however you please.”

Sumire smiled a little. _‘Mollify ourselves,’ when he’s under a charm and has to mollify himself with hugging?_ Of course Akechi had to do whatever he could to protect his pride. Behind them, Akira raised a thumbs-up to Haru.

The spells came one after another, showers of energy sinking into Akechi to absolutely no perceivable effect. In spite of Sumire’s knees starting to get sore, she settled in and focused on the parts she enjoyed. When he wasn’t such a grump about it, Akechi was a pretty nice hugger. Akira was good at basically anything he tried. And the two of them weren’t fighting! At least, not any more than that half-fraught, half-friendly banter they did sometimes.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe Sumire could make up for putting them in this situation.


	2. Backpack races have been postponed indefinitely

After twenty-five cure spells, five Alert Capsules, and six Relax Gels—Sumrie fought back giggles, because Akechi’s forehead looked like someone had thickly spread green jelly on it—absolutely nothing changed.

Well, one thing changed slightly. Wrapped up in his arms, Sumire felt Akechi’s body ease out of the locked-joint tension from when he first resisted the charm. Now his pose felt natural, like when Sumire had spotted him on talk show sets months ago. Not exactly relaxed, but not carrying stress either. It kind of felt like the best ‘default Akechi’ she could define.

Meanwhile, Akira _flopped._ She didn’t mind it, since her counterbalance against Akechi meant she couldn’t fall over, but Akira lost so much tension that Sumire wondered if he had fallen asleep. She reached behind her to tap his leg two or three times while the healing progressed, and he tapped responses back immediately. He was paying attention, but not caring a single bit what he looked like. It was pretty endearing. Actually, the longer Sumire knelt there in a double-embrace under the gaze of her friends, the less self-conscious she felt. Maybe they didn’t hold this against her after all.

“That’s the last of it,” Makoto said. “We’ve done everything we can presently do in the Metaverse.”

“Do you three think you can move?” Ann asked.

With surprising quickness, Akechi leaned back from the hug and stood up. Sumire squeaked as Akira’s weight at her back unbalanced her, but she managed to catch herself and not fall on the floor again. Akechi took hold of Sumire’s left hand and stepped back to a nearly handshake-distance.

“This will suffice,” he stated.

“For real? That’s _comfy_ for you?” Ryuji said.

“Comfort is hardly a priority. If I have to suffer this charm, I want to do so in a way that lets me maintain my basic autonomy.”

That was the other voice Sumire primarily associated with Akechi, or at least Akechi-these-days. When he wasn’t howling for blood, he had this kind of arrogant, smarter-than-thou tone. The rest of the Thieves seemed to just not acknowledge Akechi’s show-off side, so Sumire tried to follow their example.

She turned her attention behind her. “What about you, Senpai? Would you be okay holding my hand?”

Akira paused, like he was thinking, then picked up Sumire in his arms again. Once in the air, he shifted her around, and Sumire's reflexes kicked in to try and keep herself balanced and centered. In a minute, she settled, and found herself on Akira's back, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other trailing behind for Akechi, like a lifeline.

“Mwehehe, backpack mode is the best,” Futaba commented. “And Joker’s a great ride. You’re so lucky.”

Akira raised a finger and waved it in a circle, the ‘roll out’ gesture she had seen from him a few times. The group left the safe room, and Sumire leaned over a bit to keep talking to Futaba. “Excuse me, are you talking about when the rest of you were charmed?”

“Basically! Back then, everyone but Mona got hit, and Joker had to find a way to get all of us to Leblanc while none of us wanted to let go of him. He had me on his back through the train station!”

“That does sound like a lot of fun,” Sumire said with a smile. The image of a brother carrying his little sister on his back helped Sumire relax. The charm felt less like a creepy love potion when she remembered platonic types of affection.

“Ooh, what if we did backpack races? I call Mona!” Futaba’s mind leapt to a new topic.

“You’re only choosing me because I’m a cat in the real world. It’s undignified,” Morgana complained.

“And I’ve got the lowest strength stat! C’mon, I need every advantage I can get!”

“If we get through this, I think we’ll have earned our own personal field day,” Haru suggested. “I’d request Queen for my partner.”

“Those are some lofty expectations for me.”

“Oh, I was thinking that you would be my backpack! Would that be alright?”

While Makoto blushed a little, Yusuke joined in, “So this race shall be our next challenge. Panther, my back is yours.”

“I don’t trust your beanpole spine to hold me! And don’t act like I’d just agree!”

"Hey, why ain't anyone askin' to be my backpack? I'm the fastest runner!"

Even while escaping a cognitive research facility at the root of a distorted reality, everyone could still laugh and have fun. Sumire felt herself grinning along. Spending a field day with everyone sounded like a wonderful way to celebrate.

To her side, Akechi mumbled, “I’m surrounded by fools.”

The mop of hair in front of Sumire turned Akechi’s direction. Then Akira started to walk just a little bit faster. He moved from the middle of the pack up to the front. Sumire’s arm tugged for a moment before Akechi caught up.

And then Akira sped up again. Leaving his friends behind completely, he broke into a jog with Sumire still on his back, which forced Akechi to run after them.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Akechi demanded, his voice balanced between smarm and snarl.

“Backpack race.”

“Are you stupid? You don’t even have any opponents!”

“What, can’t keep up?” Akira laughed.

Then he broke into a _sprint_. Sumire clung tighter to his back to stay balanced, even as her arm pulled taut behind her. Had she been getting ahead of herself when she thought they were co-existing peacefully!?

Dragged along at an ever-faster pace, Akechi yelled, “You piece of shit, are you trying to piss me off?!”

“Senpai, please slow down!”

They reached a set of stairs down from a mezzanine to an atrium, with one landing in the middle. Filled with the same dread as the peak of a roller coaster, Sumire squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face against Akira’s neck. She heard shouts from the rest of the Thieves as Akira bounded down the steps like he had shadows at his heels.

Sumire tried to keep a hold on Akechi. She honestly did. His gauntlets dragged against her palm, the tips nearly piercing her gloves, but halfway down the stairs, their hands lost contact. Akira continued to run, leaving Akechi behind.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?!” Behind them, Sumire heard a tiny, tell-tale whine of Akechi’s ray gun charging up.

 _Oh no_.

Akechi fired and struck one of Akira’s legs. He stumbled, lost his balance, and sprawled out on the landing. Sumire followed, breaking her fall on Akira’s body and surely knocking the wind out of him. She rolled off of him to try and help him stand, but Akechi caught up.

“If you act like trash, I’ll _treat_ you like trash!” With that, Akechi hefted Sumire up around the waist and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

Then _he_ took off running.

"No! Put me down!" Sumire smacked her fists on Akechi’s back. “You’re being very immature right now!”

“ _He_ started it!”

“That proves my point! Please, stop running!”

Facing backwards, Sumire saw Akira gather himself. He braced on his knees and fired his grappling hook after Akechi, aiming to draw close like he did with shadows they planned to ambush. Sumire flinched, expecting the hook to hit Akechi, or worse, her.

The hook went wide. Disastrously wide. Sumire had never seen Akira miss a target that badly. He recalled the hook and tried again, but now Akechi was too far away and it clattered uselessly to the floor. Abandoning the hook, Akira stood up and started to run, but after just three steps, he lost his footing and landed hard on his back.

“ _Senpai!_ ”

And then he slid, jostled by the steps on his way down. Sumire prayed with everything she had that those stairs weren’t knocking Akira in the back of his skull.

“Crow-san, if you don’t put me down, I’ll use Cendrillon again!”

“Not if—”

She knew how that sentence was going to end—“ _Not if I use Loki first”_ —but Akechi abruptly stopped talking. Then in front of the door to the next area, he slowed down. And finally stopped.

Okay. Okay, progress. Even if Sumire had no idea why choosing not to threaten her made Akechi stop running, she’d accept this. “Please, put me down.”

“…Make Joker apologize.”

“He’ll apologize for sure. He just got carried away with a prank, that’s all.”

Akechi held her for a moment longer before he finally put her down, returning to a simple hand-hold. A dizzy rush of blood returned to her head while she used her one free hand to rearrange her skewed ponytail.

At the base of the stairs, Ryuji and Yusuke picked Akira up and balanced over his feet while Makoto healed him. Most of the others fretted over their leader, but Ann stormed over to Akechi with fury in her eyes.

“You’re such an idiot! What if you had hurt Violet!?”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Akechi informed her. “In fact, I have reason to believe that I am incapable of trying to harm her, even if I badly want to.”

Ann clenched her fists at her side. “That doesn’t make it better! And you phrased that like a psychotic creep!”

“Just accept that her safety is assured. You don’t have the luxury of being picky about things like presentation.” His gaze moved over Ann’s shoulder. “Joker, on the other hand, I am _more_ than capable of harming.”

“You still _shouldn’t_! We all want to stop Dr. Maruki, and we all know what the charm effect is like! Will you stop acting like you’re the only one who’s suffered from this?”

“Please, both of you!” Sumire stepped forward. “Panther-senpai, I’m safe, and I know this only happened because the charm is putting him on edge.” Beside her, Akechi scoffed, and Sumire ignored it. “Senpai just needs to apologize for starting a fight, and then we’ll leave the Palace and figure out what to do next.”

Ann didn’t look fully convinced as the rest of the Thieves gathered. Akira still looked disoriented, much more like there was a dizzy effect on him. In spite of the healing, he still leaned heavily on Ryuji and Yusuke.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Akechi demanded immediately.

Akira blinked at Akechi. “Borry.” Then he swallowed and tried again. “M’sad?” Once more; swallow, speak. “I’m the wrong-guy.”

A silence fell over the Thieves, which Ryuji broke. “Dude, are you having a stroke?”

“Hang on,” Morgana suggested. “Violet, would you take his hand?”

Akechi’s grip tightened, but Sumire fixed him with a stern look before she reached out for Akira’s hand. His fingers slid between hers, meshed so smoothly it felt like they belonged there. Finally, Akira took a deep breath and let it out.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was out of line. The last time this ailment happened, one of the ways we got through it was by not taking things too seriously. But, I caused more stress for you by not explaining my reasons. It’s my fault, and it won’t happen again.”

Now _there_ was the intelligent, empathetic, and sensible Senpai that Sumire knew. Everyone else looked varying degrees of stunned at Akira’s sudden return to normal.

“I see,” Akechi said, not acknowledging Akira’s apology. “Our personalities dictate how separation affects us.”

Akira nodded. “You go psychotic.”

“And you become a sloppy, worthless, utterly inconsequential buffoon.”

“I love you, too.”

“We should continue this discussion outside of the Metaverse,” Makoto stated. “We’ve been lucky that patrols haven’t replenished, but it’s still not safe yet.”

Sumire raised one of her hands—it turned out to be the Akechi-hand. Wincing through the awkwardness of tugging his hand around, she asked, “Can we not have any more backpack rides?”

Akira looked a little disappointed, but he dropped Sumire’s hand and stepped closer to drape his arm over her shoulders. “I can work with this.”

The three of them stayed in the center of the Thieves this time. It reminded Sumire of a bodyguard patrol for dignitaries. Akira matched her stride well, and his arm across her shoulders felt comforting. She tried not to think about Akechi’s hand-hold, but even at its normal baseline, the grip was too strong to forget.

_He said he can’t hurt me, which I suppose is worth something… I guess it shows how his mind works, that he considered knocking me unconscious so he could keep me._

Sort of like Maruki.

A shudder passed through her, which Akira apparently felt. “You okay?”

“Y-Yes! Sorry! Just—thought of something scary.”

“What is it?”

“No, it’s nothing! I swear!”

Akira didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press the issue, continuing along with the group until they reached the entrance of the research lab. A few more clicks on the MetaNav, and the familiar Odaiba construction site appeared around them

And Sumire’s phone buzzed in her pocket.

“Oh, excuse me!” Sumire had to reach across her body to fish it out, but once she had her phone in hand, she saw the messages. Three texts from her mom, one missed call from her dad. “…Oh no.”

“What’s the matter?” Makoto asked.

“My parents. They’ve been trying to contact me.” A new realization dawned on her. “I have to go home.”

“Wait, right now?!” Ryuji spluttered.

“No! Not now! But my parents will be expecting me home…” She looked first to Akira, and then to Akechi. What was she supposed to say? Explain to her parents that two boys had to come home with her, keep physical touch with her, and probably sleep in her bed—but don’t worry, there’s nothing weird going on?! There was no way they’d agree!

After a short silence, Akechi spoke, “Then we’ll have to go our separate ways."

“Hang on, how can you just _say_ that?” Ann pressed. “When the rest of us were charmed, separating from Akira felt like torture. And don’t try to convince us it’s ‘not that bad’ for you because you crumpled to the fl—”

“Stop talking,” Akechi interrupted. “I’m going to make my own choices in this situation. If Yoshizawa-san has to go somewhere I can’t follow, the decision is simple.”

“But what does that mean for Akira?” Makoto asked.

Sumire looked up at him. Even if his response to separation didn’t look as bad as Akechi’s, she still didn’t want him to be in pain over this. He had a stressed fold between his eyebrows as he thought through the problem.

“Ask if you can have a sleepover,” Akira suggested.

“That would buy us time,” Sumire agreed, and she opened her phone and pressed ‘dial.’

“What do you plan to say?” Akechi hissed, but before Sumire could back out, her dad picked up.

“ _Sumire? Where are you?_ ”

“Hi! Hi, Dad! Hi! I’m…” Sumire struggled to pull up a plausible lie fast enough. Practice? Not this late at night, and he’d check with Coach. Seeing friends? She’s supposed to tell him when she makes plans… “I was studying late! My phone was at the bottom of my bag, so I missed your messages. I’m awfully sorry.”

“ _That’s fine. Just glad you’re okay. How far are you from home?_ ”

“Actually, um—could I sleep at a friend’s house? Tonight?” Sumire changed the subject.

“ _That’s such short notice._ ”

“I know, I know, it’s… a crisis! You see, something happened, um, to my senpai, and—” Ann started waving for Sumire’s attention, and then pointed aggressively at herself. “It’s—Ann-senpai! She’s having a problem!”

“ _What kind of problem?_ ”

Ann made a heart with her hands, and then cracked it apart.

“Um, her relationship just ended! And she’s very upset. I’d like to stay with her overnight, to support her.”

“ _I don’t like you staying out so late_.”

“But this is an emergency!”

“ _If she’s in danger, she should call a hospital or another adult. It’s not something you’re responsible for, and I’m responsible for your safety.”_

Sumire felt an urge to shove her phone into Akechi’s hands. If Akechi could lie to the world as a Detective Prince, he’d know just what to say to convince her dad—but it was too late to do that, she’d already started with the story about Ann’s breakup!

“I just… I want to be there for her?” Sumire tried. “Senpai has helped me so much at school, and with… understanding who I really am. I want to do everything I can to say thanks for that.”

She felt Akira’s hand squeeze her shoulder. Through the phone, her father sighed. “ _Come home tonight. You can have a sleepover tomorrow after school. And… we won’t expect you home until Sunday night. But don’t lose track of your phone, alright? You scared us._ ”

After what happened to Kasumi… “I understand. Thank you so much. I’ll make sure Ann-senpai gets home safe, and then come straight home.”

“ _See you soon_.”

She hung up and let out a huge breath.

“That went as well as it could have,” Haru said.

Akechi opened his mouth, and then closed it again. A wry smile bloomed. “Now, this is fascinating. I think the charm’s compulsion that I not harm Yoshizawa-san extends to criticizing her actions. How _curious_.”

“Based on the course that conversation took, I can’t imagine we could have persuaded her father to let her stay out tonight,” Yusuke commented.

“Then I suppose you need a better imagination, don’t you?” Akechi said with cold joy.

Sumire saw the flash of anger in Yusuke’s eyes—insulting the student of a plagiarist for a lack of imagination cut deep—so she stepped up. “Listen, Akechi-san, it’s okay. I already know all the mistakes I’ve made tonight."

“It's not like that. You didn’t make any mistakes,” Makoto told her.

“No, I know I did. If I hadn’t broken formation in that fight, I wouldn’t have become the target of Akechi-san’s charm. That’s my fault.

“You did the right thing,” Akira said beside her.

“But I’m the one causing a problem—”

Now Akechi interrupted her. “Intentionally or otherwise, ensuring that the charm targeted an ally was the correct tactical decision.”

Shocked that _Akechi_ of all people said that, she asked, “How is that true?”

“Consider what would have happened if this charm compelled me to protect a shadow. It would have been a waste of time and strength, prolonging the fight and potentially causing casualties. Furthermore, we don’t know what happens to charmed individuals when the target is killed. Given that charm persists out of the Metaverse, the target’s death may trigger a more dire cognitive alteration.”

To her other side, Akira nodded, keeping pace with Akechi’s deductions.

“As upset as I am that we’re like _this_ …” Akechi raised his hand, entwined with Sumire’s. “I am fully aware that your actions are the reason this situation isn't worse.”

She hadn’t been thinking about it that way at all. What should she even say? Thank you? Sorry? Something that still insisted she was at fault?

How was she going to live as the Brave Sumire that she vowed to be if she kept blaming herself for everything that went wrong?

“Sumire’s got to get home,” Ann said. “So Akechi and Akira have to get home, too.”

“Which is closer, Leblanc or Akechi’s place?” Ryuji asked.

“From Odaiba? My apartment,” Akechi stated.

“So we’ll head out on the trains, and split off when we need to,” Futaba said. “Hey, maybe if I look after Akira, Mona can stay with Akechi?”

“Absolutely not.”

The feel-good mood from Akechi’s praise barely lasted a minute. Sumire did her best to smile anyway. “Guess it’s time for everyone to go.”


	3. You seriously gave me the impression you lived in a coffin

Their friends peeled off as they reached transfer stations, until finally Akechi spoke up. “This is me.”

The neighborhood felt familiar to Sumire. At least, it had the same home-like feel as her own neighborhood. There was a grocery store, little family restaurants and shops, and a few neighbors walking through the January air. The three of them walked side-by-side: Akira on her right, his arm across her shoulders; Akechi to her left, holding her hand. Once, they pulled aside once to let a mother and child go past rather than fold into a more compact configuration.

The mother looked at them strangely. Sumire’s face burned, knowing she probably looked like some kind of shameless girl with two boyfriends. She supposed she shouldn’t let it bother her, since Akechi and Akira didn’t look like they planned on being ashamed anytime soon, but it wasn’t easy to shake off.

Finally, they reached an apartment building, with a lobby and elevator. Akechi buzzed them through, and on one of the middling floors, he unlocked the door to a small studio apartment. The place was very tidy, with a little kitchen, a table in the middle, a bed in one corner, and a TV opposite it. She saw a closet for clothes and one bookcase _packed_ with a dizzying number of books.

“See you tomorrow,” Akechi said.

“Hang on.” Akira raised a finger. “Where are your snacks?”

“Do you think you’re entitled to hospitality just because you’ve seen my room now? I’m not feeding you.”

“Not for us.”

Akechi scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“Separation made you psychotic, but you also froze up. Once Sumire’s gone, you might not be able to move.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s not as if this place is large enough for anything to be more than a few steps away.”

Now that Akira had brought it up, Sumire couldn’t get the mental image out of her head: Akechi, shaking and suffering, and not even able to reach out to the things that would ease his pain. “I’m concerned about that too. We could gather up a few things and leave them near your bed. Snacks, a water bottle, maybe a sweater in case the night gets chilly?”

“Forehead compress,” Akira added.

She smiled, seeing where Akira was going. “What about pain relievers?”

“A bedtime story.”

“Warm soup!”

“Teddy bear.”

“Now you’re going too far!”

“We’re in agreement on that,” Akechi said, but with a bit more contempt. “Will you stop patronizing me and leave already?”

“At least let us lay out food and a water bottle—it won’t take long!” Sumire said.

Akira nodded. “You’re outvoted.”

“This is what John Stuart Mill meant by ‘the tyranny of the masses.’ I don’t need this.” Sumire and Akira still refused to budge, and after a minute, Akechi sighed. “Cabinet above the sink.”

The snacks in question were really generic meal-replacement bars. Sumire supposed a Detective Prince’s lifestyle meant he got more interesting meals out of his apartment. Maybe it embarrassed Akechi all the more that, in order to lay everything out next to Akechi’s bed, the three of them formed a human chain, where Akira and Akechi each had one free hand and Sumire twirled between them. The brief interruption when Akira remembered, “Pajamas,” passed pretty smoothly too. Sumire hugged Akira’s front while Akechi changed behind her, one hand on her shoulder for contact. They even remembered that Sumire should take Akechi’s keys with her, so she could get into the apartment in case Akechi ended up paralyzed. He looked offended by the suggestion, but Sumire didn’t want to take any chances.

She couldn’t lie, it was fun. Akira knew more about Akechi’s tolerance for teasing after the backpack-race stunt, and Akechi’s attempts to grump his way through it was ineffectively cute. She just really liked being there, being useful.

The tension returned when there were no more excuses to stay. Akechi had a set of neutral sweats for pajamas, he had water and food nearby, and the blankets on his bed would be enough to hold back the winter. Sumire had goodbyes on her tongue, but she kept remembering what Akechi had looked like before: shaking, frozen, and half-sane. She didn’t get along with Akechi’s true personality at all, but she’d never wish something like this on him.

“If you don’t leave, your father may rescind his permission to let you stay tomorrow,” Akechi reasoned.

“R-Right,” Sumire said. “Sorry. Um, here…”

She gave Akira’s hand a brief squeeze and pulled back. At first, he didn’t let her—but he winced, looked embarrassed, and then tucked both hands under his arms. Confident that Akira would survive, Sumire turned back to Akechi and sat down beside him.

“Maybe it’s like a battery. If I can give you a little more, the pain won’t settle in as fast.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Lots of good things aren’t necessary things,” Sumire told him. Akechi didn’t seem like he was going to acknowledge her offer, so she just reached out on her own, hugging from the side and letting her hands clasp near the middle of his chest.

_…What shampoo does Akechi-san use? I might want some._

Sumire could feel Akechi’s tension drain, just like before, and just a little bit. He raised his hands, clasped them over Sumire’s, and just breathed.

“Count down before you let go,” he said in a soft voice.

“Why?”

“So that I actually let you go.”

Sumire nodded. “I can do that.”

She peeked over Akechi’s shoulder to check on Akira, trying to sense if his ‘battery’ was running out. The effect of separation had been pretty immediate last time, but they had taken him by surprise—and Akechi _had_ shot him. It took a minute for her to notice Akira fidgeting more. He tried to adjust his glasses, but they slid off his face, and he fumbled the catch, so they clattered to the floor. And he looked _very_ embarrassed about it, which after so many months spent with her cool, unflappable senpai, Sumire found really cute.

“I’ll count down from five to one, okay?” she whispered to Akechi. After he nodded, she started, “Five… four… three… two… one.”

Akechi’s hands released her, but when she pulled back, it looked like he was still holding her phantom arms. Then he flexed his fingers and forced them to his sides.

“Thank you, Yoshizawa-san.”

“See you tomorrow!” she said. She returned to Akira’s side and wrapped his arm up between hers. He smiled at her, and with a secret flick of his toe, flipped his glasses off the floor and into the air, where he caught them.

“Bye.”

Akechi didn’t answer.

They left, locked up, and started to walk for the elevator, with Sumire keeping hold of Akira’s elbow. Sumire glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Um, Senpai?”

“Mn?”

“When we’re in contact like this, you seem rather normal. Akechi-san is mostly the same way. So, is this enough contact for the two of you?”

“…How much truth do you want?”

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. “When you say it like that, it makes it me think I’ll be in danger if I don’t know the whole truth.”

He chuckled a little. “Not danger. We won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“Then, how close is close enough?”

Akira lifted his hands and wove his fingers together. “This close.”

 _Oh._ She’d never been that close to anyone before. “A-A-And… Do you… do you think that Akechi-san feels that way too!?”

“Likely.”

The elevator arrived, and Sumire went silent as they stepped inside. One-step-past full body contact. With two people. Simultaneously. Who tended to get along, but became _violently_ competitive any time they didn’t. She tried not to let the scope of this overwhelm her as she hugged Akira’s arm. She kept that pose until they reached the subway, and thanks to the late hour, they got seats. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he tilted to match.

Almost halfway to Yongen-Jaya, Akira spoke up. “Tomorrow morning, don’t overwhelm Akechi. Just give him your hand. And act like you found him drinking a coffee, no matter how bad he looks.”

Sumire watched her feet in front of her. “You’re really sure about that advice?”

“Yep.”

“I guess you know Akechi-san really well.”

“I think so.”

“What should I do when I show up for you?”

“Oh, tackle me. No question.”

Sumire laughed at that. “You’re not as proud as Akechi-san.”

“I’m just as proud. I just learned that it’s okay for my friends to see me at my worst. If they can’t see that, who can?”

The train paused at a station. Doors opened, doors closed. Sumire shifted a little. “You know, for all that we talk, and for how much you’ve learned about me and Kasumi… you don’t actually talk about yourself much.”

“Guess so,” Akira said. “The charm did this last time, too. Everyone got really direct and honest.”

“So you might say something you don’t mean to?” She felt his head move on hers, like he was nodding. “Will you be angry if I ask about something sensitive?”

“I might get mad, but you wouldn’t dig for secrets on purpose, so I’ll forgive you.”

“How about I dig for something stupid right now,” Sumire said with a smile. “Tell me… something that you were scared of when you were a kid!”

Akira turned to press his face into her hair. “Automatic car washes.”

“Really?”

“I was four the first time my parents used an automatic car wash. I wouldn’t stop crying. I thought we were gonna drown.”

“That’s so cute! I can definitely understand the noise and water scaring a little kid,” Sumire said. “So as long as I don’t ask about anything more embarrassing than that, I should be fine!”

“That’s the spirit.”

The conversation drifted back to their usual chit-chat. The physical contact down her side even felt more natural now. It was nice to lean on him, rely on him. They got one interruptive text from Futaba, announcing that she had informed Sojiro about the return of the charm ailment.

“It’s at least nice to have an understanding guardian,” Sumire said.

“Maybe,” Akira said. “I still wish he didn’t have to see me without you.”

“He feels different than your friends?”

“He taught me to make coffee. Without you, I don’t trust myself to make a cup of water. It took months to earn his respect…” Akira trailed off.

 _Maybe you_ are _just as proud as Akechi-san._

Yongen-Jawa’s station arrived, and they walked through familiar backstreets. Leblanc already had its ‘Closed’ sign flipped, but Futaba and Morgana waited outside for them.

“How weird is Akechi’s place? Is it full of knives? Or a big conspiracy-board with red string all over it? Or a voodoo doll with Shido’s face?” Futaba immediately interrogated.

“He doesn’t own furniture,” Akira lied with a straight face.

“No, it’s just a normal room,” Sumire corrected. “We tried to leave him in a good condition, but…”

“We’ll take care of Akira for you,” Morgana promised with a swish of his tail. “Tomorrow, you’re going to get Akechi first, right?”

“It’s Saturday, and Shujin has school…” Sumire frowned. “I have no idea what we’re going to do about that.”

“I'm close with my homeroom teacher,” Akira said. “She can talk with your teacher, and we’ll cut class.”

“Don’t call Kawakami until Sumire comes back, okay?” Morgana advised. “You need to be in tip-top condition in order to request her help.”

Akira’s expression turned kind of wistful. “Actually, new plan. Stay the night. Please.”

“I can’t,” Sumire told him.

“It’s gonna hurt. A lot.”

“It’s not fair to Akechi-san if I stay with you.”

He nodded, but didn’t move. Well, Sumire figured he deserved the same top-off that Akechi got. She leaned in close to his chest, and immediately felt him hug her in return. She closed her eyes and just breathed for a bit, savoring all the places where their contact chased away the winter chill. This was really not so bad. It felt like everything Sumire had been missing in her life. Not just the attention from someone who mattered to her, or the sense that she was doing something that helped another person.

This was joy. Joy, strong enough to make the world’s senseless pain bearable.

 _That’s something Dr. Maruki doesn’t understand. It’s something that_ I _didn’t understand._

“Countdown from five?” Sumire whispered. Akira’s arms tightened immediately, but she felt him nod. “Five, four, three, two, one.”

He tried to linger, but true to the agreement, he separated. Morgana strutted in the direction of the train station to escort Sumire, while Futaba took Akira’s hand to pull him toward Leblanc.

Sumire waved. “See you tomorrow.”

With one final nod, Akira followed Futaba inside the cafe, and Sumire followed Morgana. She had barely made it a few steps before her phone buzzed with a text message. Fearful of a message from her father, Sumire yanked her phone out of her pocket and opened the notification.

 **FUTABA.** Hey jsyk Akira tripped on the entry mat and started ugly-crying  
**SUMIRE.** Oh no! Should I go back?  
**FUTABA.** No way, this is hilarious!  
**FUTABA.** I’ll send pics if he makes any more stupid faces  
**SUMIRE.** I’m really sorry, Futaba-senpai, but I don’t think your priorities are in the right place.

* * *

Sumire arrived home, ate dinner that her mom had set aside for her, and tried to study, but she couldn’t focus. Obviously, Akechi and Akira had to be suffering so much without her, even though Akechi had a care station and Akira had Morgana and Futaba's help. She tried to make herself read the textbook in front of her while her mind kept drifting to the two people in Tokyo enduring intense pain.

She slept in spurts thought he night, always checking the time and deciding to get at least one more hour. When her phone showed the time as 5:36 AM, she had no more sleepiness in her body. She supposed it was time to get up. Opening her IM, Futaba had apparently been texting the group almost all night. It looked like a play-by-play of Akira’s night without Sumire.

She’d read through it later. For now, she washed, dressed, and started cooking her breakfast. To an outsider, it probably looked like breakfast for a family.

A hall light flipped on, and Sumire looked up at her mom, wearing a dressing gown. “Oh—good morning!”

“You’re up early,” her mom said, fond but tired, and a little worried.

“I know. I just couldn’t sleep, thinking about my senpai,” she said. “She looked really bad when we said goodbye, so I’m hoping I can meet her and walk to school together.”

“Well, teenagers are very passionate about their romances…” Sumire’s mom folded her arms. “Is this boy even good for your senpai?”

“He’s—not someone that I get along well with,” Sumire tried to wrangle the truth into an acceptable lie. “He’s talented and handsome, so most people adore him. But he’s actually sort of a—” … _misanthropic psychopath_ … “—self-centered person, on the inside.”

“It sounds like he’s not a good boyfriend at all,” her mom said.

“My senpai still loves him. And I want to help, no matter what.”

Sumire’s mom nodded. “Your father said you wanted to stay overnight with her?”

“Yes, please.”

Her mom nodded. “Well… you probably can’t fix your senpai’s broken heart, but I’m glad that you want to help. I’ll tell your father goodbye for you.”

“Thank you. I really mean it.”

Within the hour, Sumire had herself ready and packed both for an ordinary school day and a sleepover with the two boys cognitively compelled to cuddle her at all times. She ran for the station, sipped onto an unusual train, and then sprinted as soon as the doors opened again. The sooner she got Akechi, the sooner she could get Akira, and then they’d put their heads together and make a plan.

When she opened the door to Akechi’s apartment, the lights were still off. Sumire toed her shoes off in the doorway and stepped closer. “Akechi-san? I’m coming in!”

She heard a creak. The bed frame? Could Akechi move? She did her best to squint in the darkness, stepping closer to the bed. The bottle had been knocked over, but she didn’t see any spilled water. None of the meal bars had been opened.

Her eyes started to adjust, and she could now see Akechi’s pose. More than just curled up on himself, Akechi had crunched into the corner where the bed met the wall, the kind of defensible position a wounded animal would seek. She couldn’t tell if his fingers had pulled at his clothes like they had in the Metaverse, but his arms were posed like he had been trying to keep his own organs inside his chest.

Okay. Okay, Akira said act casual. Hold his hand and pretend not to see anything. She could do this.

“Good morning,” she said. “Would you mind if I sat for a moment?”

She perched herself on the edge of his bed and placed her hand a few inches away from him. From the corner of her eye—not staring, she wouldn’t stare, _she wouldn’t stare_ —she saw one of his hands disengage from his back. Jerking like a machine with rust-encrusted gears, he gradually reached for Sumire and then _clenched_ his fingers around her hand. The pressure startled her, but it wasn't as tight as she feared it would be.

“Did you get much sleep?” she asked, trying to disguise concern as small talk.

“Sh—hut—the f—f—” He sounded like he was trying to snarl, but his voice gave out halfway through.

So, he just needed some time. Sumire had a feeling this would pass faster if she hugged him, rather than waiting for the charm to be soothed by just a hand-hold, but if this had a chance of lasting for six more days, Sumire really needed Akechi to continue to respect her. Maybe she’d have to ask Akira for some tips about that?

Speaking of Akira… Sumire might be stuck on Akechi’s bed for a while, so she should catch up with the other afflicted boy. First and foremost, there were dozens of group chat pings from Futaba. None of them seemed urgent, since Futaba would have sent a direct message or called.

 **FUTABA.** Guys this is so funny, Akira just crawled up the attic stairs on all fours.  
**FUTABA.** And then remembered he has to brush teeth, so he went back down on his butt!  
**FUTABA.** I have never seen him blush this hard.  
**FUTABA.** [img_2489.jpg]  
**FUTABA.** OMG HE BEANED HIMSELF IN THE FACE WITH THE BATHROOM DOOR.  
**FUTABA.** FFFFFF **  
****RYUJI.** For real!? I’m telling ya, it’s like a stroke!  
**FUTABA.** I’m stealing his glasses before he breaks them.  
**FUTABA.** Mwehehe, double glasses time.  
**FUTABA.** [img_2490.jpg]  
**MAKOTO:** Futaba, you really shouldn’t tease him. Or do you want us to bring up what you were like while charmed?  
**FUTABA.** So I bawled my eyes out, big deal. I’m way over it.  
**FUTABA.** Besides, I’ll keep the REAL embarrassing material for myself! >:D  
**FUTABA.** Morgana just got back. Asked Akira what the plan is for tomorrow. Akira said “We’ll bridge that cross when it pour-overs.”  
**FUTABA.** I can kind of tell that he got switched around but why did he add a whole separate idiom?  
**FUTABA.** Idiot-iom, more like.  
**YUSUKE.** I believe there’s a reference to coffee-brewing mixed in there too.  
**FUTABA.** Akira is scrambled like an egg lmao ****

It’s a strange balance, between being delighted by Akira’s fumbles and horrified by how much pain he must be in. _He might be really good at hiding when he’s in pain…_

Beside her, Akechi shifted. His arms came away from his body as he twisted into a more normal lying-down position. Sumire fixed her stare on her phone and tried not to acknowledge it. Maybe she should wait for Akechi to address her.

 **FUTABA.** Okay I’m going to see if I can get him to say more funny stuff.  
**FUTABA.** Reading out clues from Sojiro’s crossword…  
**FUTABA.** Apparently the 10-letter answer for ‘held to inform the public’ is MEGAPHONE.  
**FUTABA.** I told him that’s 9 letters and he failed to count to 9  
**FUTABA.** He just tried again. Still can’t get to 9  
**HARU.** Counting woes aside, I can at least follow his logic? Megaphones are quite loud.  
**FUTABA.** The next one was 8 letters, ‘changes with the season’ and it took him six tries to pronounce ‘thermometer’ correctly.  
**FUTABA.** Which is also too many letters.

“Yosh’awa… san?”

“Yes?”

“Water.”

She reached down to the floor and found the water bottle. Oh, it had its cap screwed on, how lucky! And the lightness in the bottle proved Akechi had drank at least a little bit in the night. She unscrewed the cap and passed the bottle into Akechi’s other free hand. It still trembled, but he managed a few sips.

“Feeling better?”

His mouth opened and closed again. The words wouldn’t come out.

“Sorry. I know you don’t want my concern.” Sumire fidgeted with her phone. “If it’s any consolation, Senpai had an awful night, too. Futaba-senpai recorded a lot of it and messaged the group.”

Akechi grunted at that. He finally managed to shift himself into approximate a sitting position. The glow of her phone was the only light, but Sumire could see tear-trails on Akechi’s cheeks, which did not make it any easier to hold back sensitive questions like _are you okay_?

“Um… what would you like to do about breakfast?” Yeah, that might help. A request for him to eat phrased as a problem to be solved. She wasn’t pitying him, oh no, not her.

Akechi twisted his neck. Sumire heard several of his vertebrae pop. “…Yon Germain. Near the Ginza gate.”

“Pastries! Sounds delicious.” She had already eaten breakfast, but could always go for more. “I’ll text Senpai what he wants.”

He took another sip of water. “Two danishes.”

“Have you and Senpai had breakfast together before?”

“No, it was during the infiltration of Sae-san’s Palace. We took a rest for minor injuries, and he offered the group pastries for a snack. Two fruit danishes for himself.”

When Akechi finished, he looked a little unnerved, and he stared down at his water bottle. _Maybe he didn’t intend to tell that story._ “Looks like you sleuthed his order!” Sumire tried to lighten the mood. “Do you want to get dressed now? Then we’ll go?”

“What time is it?”

“Um, nearly seven?”

“You woke up early.”

“Once I knew I wouldn’t be going back to sleep, I decided I might as well get started on the day.”

He smirked a little at that. “I won’t slow you down, then.”

Akechi found his clothes for the day—his usual shirt, slacks, and sweater-vest—and excused himself to the bathroom for a few minutes. Sumire waited outside the door and scrolled through more of Futaba’s messages.

 **FUTABA.** According to Akira, a seven-letter common skin injury is an OW.  
**FUTABA.** Is this what having a stupid little brother is like? I think I love it.  
**ANN.** The closest thing you have otherwise is Ryuji, so… probably?

In a few minutes, Akechi emerged dressed, but with clearly unbrushed hair. He took hold of her hand and pulled her back to the bathroom.

“Hang on, I can help—”

“Help by taking the edge off.”

She stood by and looked at herself and Akechi in the mirror while he pulled a comb through his hair one-handed. The pose looked severely undignified, but apparently Akechi preferred it to Sumire fussing with his appearance for him. Luckily, it didn’t last long, and Sumire and Akechi made their way to the train station, arm in arm.

In the crisp January air, Sumire noticed Akechi take a deep and bracing breath. “That was almost the worst night of my life,” he said in a low, resentful voice. “Disgusting.”

She reflexively wanted to ask _What was the worst night?_ but remembered Akira’s advice. The charm might compel Akechi to answer Sumire more honestly than he wanted, and he’d never forgive her for prying. Everything she knew about him from the rest of the Phantom Thieves made his life sound like a horror story that she was happier not knowing.

To lighten the mood, Sumire looked at her phone again. Maybe there was something that would make Akechi smile in there…

 **FUTABA.** Akira just lost a fight with his shirt.  
**FUTABA.** [img_2491.jpg]

“Well, Senpai wasn’t having a very good night either.” Sumire lifted her phone. “Look.”

“Please don’t show me that.”

“I thought you’d want to know that you and Senpai are in the same boat?”

“I have high expectations of him. If we’re going to decide our duel, then it should be a clash of our true and full potential. There’s a peculiar sort of rage I feel, when I see the one who continually surpasses me brought down by trivial challenges.”

Sumire put her phone back in her pocket and stared fixedly at the sidewalk ahead. What was she supposed to say to something like that? She knew Akechi had a competitive relationship with Akira. Once, Akechi even vowed that if Akira died to a shadow, Akechi would kill him again. But did the resentment really run so deep that seeing Akira fail at anything made Akechi angry? Did Akechi expect total perfection from Akira, no matter what?

_…Was that what I expected of Kasumi?_

She had a feeling that asking Akechi to clarify would make him angry at her again, so she kept her phone in her pocket and continued back to the station. The trains were starting to fill up, but that meant that Sumire could have Akechi reach for one of the poles while Sumire held onto his front, like an ‘accidental’ hug. He didn’t protest, so even though he probably saw through her gambit, the charm convinced him to accept the contact.

The line for Yon Germain wasn’t that bad. When they were three people from the front of the line, a person passing by approached them. With an excited glint in his eye, he asked, “Excuse me, but are you Akechi-kun, the Detective Prince?”

With a tone that could freeze lava, Akechi answered, “You’re mistaken.”

In response to the man’s scandalized expression, Sumire tried to laugh it off. “He gets confused for Akechi-kun all the time, it really annoys him! Please accept my apologies!”

He left, upset but hopefully not offended. Sumire looked up at Akechi, even more questions on her mind, but she held them back. When they reached the front of the line, Akechi ordered two danishes, a sandwich, and then told Sumire, “Order for yourself.”

“Thank you! Um, could I have four more danishes, two extra sandwiches, and some butter croissants… three of those, please! Oh, and one jelly bread?”

The cashier nodded and started adding pastries to the bag. Sumire looked at Akechi, ready to offer to pay, when she saw his stunned expression.

“…Yoshizawa-san, what the fuck?”


	4. Running errands is tense enough without all this drama

In Yongen-Jawa, Sumire couldn’t help picking up her pace. The heavy bag of pastries in her arms made her all the more excited to share them with Akira. Akechi thankfully kept pace without comment until she reached Leblanc. This time, the lights were on, and she could see Sojiro at the counter through the glass.

Opening the door, Sumire waved at him. “Pardon me, we’re here! Where’s—”

Sojiro pointed to the booth nearest the door. Akira half-sat, half-lay on the cushion, and as soon as he saw Sumire, he raised his arms and knocked over a copper cup full of napkins.

 _Senpai asked me to tackle him!_ Sumire pulled Akechi close enough to the edge of the table so he’d have leeway when she leapt into the booth with Akira, wrapping her other arm around his shoulders to snuggle up close. He smelled like coffee and felt warm as a sunrise, and even though Sumire wasn’t the one with a charm-compulsion, she finally felt complete again.

Behind her, she heard Sojiro chuckle a little to himself. “I’m still not sure which is weirder: six of them crawling all over him, or him so out-of-sorts until she came by.”

“We deeply appreciate your understanding. And I hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience for you,” Akechi said, and for the first time in months, Sumire heard the sweet, people-pleasing cadence of the Detective Prince. Maybe he used that facade whenever he needed people unfamiliar with his true self to like him.

Sojiro shook his head. “It’s fine. Futaba wouldn’t give me details about how you encountered another one of these ‘cognitive alterations,’ but it sounds like you know what to do this time.”

Well, Futaba had been bluffing a bit… “Where is Futaba-senpai right now?”

“She stayed overnight at the shop to look after Akira, so she’s home sleeping now. Probably won’t be up until the afternoon.” Sojiro stroked his beard. “I will need to open up for the day… what exactly do you plan to do about school?”

“I’m going to get a message to my homeroom teacher,” Akira explained. “She’ll cover for us.”

“Look at that, you’re speaking in full sentences again,” Sojiro teased, but he looked satisfied with the answer. “How about you wait upstairs? I’ll bring you coffees.”

“I can do it, Boss.”

“ _You_ have been a mess and a half all morning. And when you brew coffee for a girl, she’s supposed to be on the other side of the counter, not hanging off your arm.”

Sumire pressed her face closer to Akira’s neck, just to keep her blush hidden. _Everyone keeps making assumptions!_

“Shall we go upstairs, then? We should create space for the paying clientele, after all.” Akechi suggested with his falsely sweet voice.

Akira scooted along the booth with Sumire still on his lap, until they reached the end and she could stand on her own. And now they were back to that three-person-chain, Sumire in the middle, her right hand for Akira, her left for Akechi. Sojiro shook his head as the three of them climbed the stairs, finding Morgana waiting at the top.

“So you three survived the night,” he commented. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m capable of handling this, like I told you,” Akechi said, his tone reverting immediately to its usual brusqueness.

“You know there’s no point in acting tough,” Morgana said. “We learned last time that dealing with this is a marathon. Sumire especially needs to make sure she’s taking care of herself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Morgana-senpai. Right now, I can definitely tell I’m nervous, but that’s at least keeping me from feeling sleepy.” She lifted up the bag from Yon Germain. “Oh, we brought breakfast!”

They spent a few minutes eating the pastries, paired well with the coffees Sojiro brought up. Akira juggled eating his danishes and texting his homeroom teacher with one hand, while Akechi ate his sandwich in slow bites and did everything in his power not to watch Sumire consume her second breakfast of the day. Her stress levels did a number on her appetite.

“So,” Akechi voiced first. “Which is our primary concern, creating a facsimile of normal life, or delivering our ‘answer’ to Maruki’s proposal in time for his deadline?”

“Deadline,” Akira agreed. “We can put our lives back together after.”

“I definitely want to go to the Metaverse with everyone, but how are we going to fight?” Sumire asked.

“We could deliver suppressing fire from a distance,” Akechi suggested.

“I’ll use a support Persona. Free up the others deal damage.”

Morgana’s tail flicked. “And what about leadership in battle?”

“Makoto can handle it,” Akira decided.

“We could also make an extra effort to not be seen, so we’ll avoid fights?” Sumire said. She saw Akechi open and close his mouth once more, which she was starting to recognize as a sign that he wanted to be critical of her, but couldn’t speak. “Or… that was a stupid suggestion. We already use stealth. I’m sorry.”

“It’s worth the reminder,” Akira placated her.

“Does this mean that we should prepare for a Palace infiltration today?” Morgana said.

“Yeah.”

“And what will you three do in the meantime?”

“Errands,” Akira said. His phone buzzed, and he nodded at the message. “Kawakami’s got us covered.”

“How do you have such a good relationship with your homeroom teacher?” Sumire asked. “Shouldn’t she be more strict with you, because of your record?”

“It may be another effect of Maruk’s cognitive alterations, since erasing his criminal record was among the revisions,” Akechi theorized.

“Nah, we were this close before. It’s fine,” Akira said vaguely. “We need to sell last night’s treasures, see if Iwai can boost our guns, replenish medicines…” He trailed off. “Can Chihaya predict when the charm will end? Or maybe the Velvet Room…”

_…What is he talking about?_

Akira shook the strange train of thought off quickly, and continued, “We’ll hit vending machines along the way. Drinks only help a little, but they’re better than nothing. Mostly, we shouldn’t loiter.”

“I have no objections to that,” Akechi said. Then he… clenched his jaw, in an awkward way? Then he relaxed and shook his head.

Akira fixed him with a stare. “First, it’s nap time.”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t sleep. I know because I didn’t sleep.”

“Stop fussing over me.”

“No. We’ll go after a Sumire-nap. Morgana, wake us at noon?”

“I can do that.

“This is a ridiculous waste of time.”

“Akechi-san, I only slept a little bit myself!” Sumire reminded him. “Could you play along with this, for our sakes?”

Akechi still looked miffed, but he relented. Akira caught Sumire’s eye and winked at her, a little acknowledgement that made her smile. It was definitely nice for her senpai to notice that her manipulation skills were improving.

That said, it didn't escape her that Akira hadn’t suggested a nap, even though he was equally sleep-deprived, until Akechi looked tired.

* * *

The horizontal Sumire-sandwich was comfortable. In spite of her own rough night, the coffee had energized her, so she stayed awake between Akechi and Akira as they laid down and promptly passed out. The best pose turned out to be a three-nestled spoon, with Akira against Sumire’s back, and Sumire against Akechi’s. They afforded her just enough room to breathe easily, and though she still caught strands of Akechi’s pale brown hair in her mouth, she felt satisfied with the arrangement.

Morgana popped by to check on them and noticed that she was awake while her charmed boys slept. “Do you need something to read?”

“Something light, but interesting?”

Morgana nodded, strutted over to a pile of books Akira had near, of all things, a chocolate fountain. He returned with a book about flower language, which Sumire balanced on Akechi’s shoulder and flipped through. The pretty blossoms and the stories behind them kept her mind busy while she listened to the soft breathing before and behind her.

The plan faltered when Akechi woke up an hour or so later. He rolled over and accidentally dropped the Flowerpedia book on his own face. Sumire whispered placating apologies to him, but he just did the open-close mouth thing again and set the book aside.

“Are you feeling better, Akechi-san?”

“More alert, at least. ‘Better’ is too nebulous to define.”

Akira only slept about ten minutes more, ending his nap with a tight, soul-warming embrace for Sumire. Then he sat up and nodded. “Time to go.”

The clinic doctor down the street had a punk-rock look to her. Granted, Sumire’s tolerance for ‘scary-looking people’ had at least doubled since fighting alongside Akechi in the Metaverse. Her fears shrank even further when the doctor smiled at Akira. “I see you brought friends.”

“Group wellness retreat,” Akira said. “I’m here to shop.”

“Okay. Head to the exam room.”

Akira nodded, but as Sumire and Akechi started to follow, the doctor spoke up. “I’ll do your physicals after we’ve finished with his purchase, okay?”

“Oh, we don’t need physicals!” Sumire said, and immediately regretted it. _I keep telling the truth without thinking through if we need to lie!_

“Kurusu-kun speaks very highly of your medical expertise,” Akechi pivoted, greasing the wheels with his pleasant voice. “We were hoping to see your practice first-hand. Of course, we’ll be sensitive around any matters of confidentiality.”

“ _This_ is a matter confidentiality,” the doctor said. “Only the patient and doctor are supposed to know which medicines are being purchased.”

“They’re with me,” Akira added.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Even if we’re thinking of the same ‘with me,’ I still can’t be the one to show your prescriptions to other people. You helped me out with so much, but I’m not about to get back in trouble over a technicality.”

“Can I at least bring her?” Akira pointed to Sumire.

“Why?”

“She’s my emotional support underclassman.”

Sumire tried to smile as un-suspiciously as possible, but the doctor held firm. “My clinic, my rules. Or do you want to go back to paying full price?”

“We understand your restrictions completely, and apologize for causing trouble,” Akechi stated decisively. “Would you give us a moment? Then we’ll finish our business and be on our way.”

They shuffled away from the window and to the waiting room chairs. “Get out your phone,” Akechi ordered, his tone back to normal. “Write out everything you plan to buy so you can just hand it to her.”

Akira looked a little defeated, but he nodded and started typing out the team’s supply order: looked like a lot of restoratives to replace what they had used on Akechi yesterday, as well as more healing items than usual. _Does Senpai expect more injuries today?_

“…Can you count down?” Akira asked when the list was done. “It helped.”

Sumire gave him the five-to-one, and then released Akira’s hand. He turned around, nodded at the doctor, and immediately misjudged the swing of the door, striking his forehead solidly with the edge. Sumire gasped a little and had to clench Akechi’s hand to stop herself from running over to him. The doctor, for her part, looked even more confused.

They spent ten minutes waiting, until Akira emerged with a small paper bag in his hand. His eyes locked on Sumire, and she rushed to give him at least her hand.

“There you go,” the doctor said. “And I hope you recover from your case of ‘the weirds’ soon. There’s a few free analgesics in there.”

“What for?” Akira asked.

“You’re exhibiting a lot of the symptoms of a concussion. If it doesn’t clear up tomorrow morning, I’ll ask Sakura-san to send you over for a full physical. You’ve come too far to die of head trauma.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Sumire hoped Sojiro would be willing to fib to the doctor on their behalf in the event the charm didn’t break overnight. She bowed at the doctor as properly as she could with both her hands held by other people and left the clinic.

“I hope our next destination isn’t a place that will require we separate,” Akechi asked, with his tone carrying an implication that he thought Akira was stupid for not remembering that doctor appointments are private.

“We did that first for a reason,” Akira said. “Now vending machines, then to Shibuya.”

“Who’s in Shibuya?”

“Our arms dealer.”

Akechi scoffed. “You mean the toy shop.”

“…Akechi-san, aren’t your weapons literally toys?”

The Shibuya airsoft shop had an even creepier vibe then the doctor’s office. Sumire found herself holding all the tighter onto Akira and Akechi’s hands in the middle of all the military material. Akira got right down to business with the shopkeeper, while Sumire tried to look around like a normal customer. All the camo print and metal unnerved her a little bit.

“Who’re they?” the man asked in the middle of the transaction.

“Tourists,” Akira answered smoothly.

“You gotta hold hands, like little kids?”

“Keeps them from touching anything they shouldn’t.”

No matter how callous Sumire found the lie, the shopkeeper accepted it with a gruff smile, and after the rigamarole they endured trying to get medicine, Sumire kept her head down. She couldn’t tell if the comment offended Akechi any more than his default state.

After a few minutes, but Akira left with three purchases: new armor and pistol for Sumire, and a new blaster for Akechi.

“You didn’t buy a gun for yourself?” Sumire asked.

“I’ll focus on a support Persona,” Akira said.

“And you didn’t waste resources by just buying the flashiest one, did you?” Akechi reminded, as he held the bag with his new gun in one hand, opened just enough for him to look inside.

“Of course not. Focused on power.”

For the first time all day, Akechi smiled. “Then maybe this will all be worth it. It’s an _excellent_ choice for delivering pain.”

Sumire didn’t want to dwell on Akechi’s bloodlust, so she asked, “Where to next?”

“Shibuya vending, then Shinjuku.”

“What’s in Shinjuku?”

“A fortune teller.”

Sumire surprised herself with how un-surprised she was. If Akira could be friends with all the Phantom Thieves, and also a back-alley doctor and airsoft shop owner, it really didn’t surprise her at all that he’d know a fortune teller.

However, the fortune teller looked _extremely_ surprised to see them.

“What in tarnation!?” The fortune teller exclaimed with a very pronounced country dialect. Her gaze flicked between them rapidly. “You’re… this is just…”

“You see something?” Akira asked, getting to the point.

“I—I ain’t never seen anything like this, you’re… three people with the _same_ aura? And it ain’t your aura, it’s new—”

“Probably hers,” Akira said, swinging Sumire’s hand a little. “We’re making do. Any chance you know when the auras might split again?”

“Hold on, are we truly taking her seriously?” Akechi interrupted.

“If you don’t like it, go wait by the station,” Akira stated. “I bought meds alone, so it’s your turn.”

“No, we don’t need to split up! We’ll be fine!” Sumire insisted.

The fortune teller leaned in. “What happens when you split?”

“It’s not pleasant for anyone, so we’d prefer not to,” Sumire tried to deflect.

Akira raised his right hand. “Can we get a free reading if we show you what happens when we split?” Sumire turned a worried look to Akira, who added, “Readings are five thousand yen.”

“That much?!”

“They’re worth it.”

Akechi hefted the bag with his new gun in it. “A brief separation is fine.”

Sumire tried not to let her discomfort show on her face. They were the ones this would hurt, so was it okay if they suggest it? _Are they just… that used to making sacrifices?_ “Okay. Five, four…”

On ‘one,’ she released their hands. The woman’s face _immediately_ changed to a look of horror. Sumire had no idea what an aura looked like, but whatever happened to their auras after separating, it terrified the fortune teller.

“How long have y’all been like that?!” she exclaimed.

“Almost a day,” Sumire told her. “You wouldn’t happen to know when this is going to end?”

“I’ve never seen nothin’ like it! It’s like y’all are cursed!”

Akechi snarled, “I’ll _show_ you cursed—” which Sumire took as her cue to latch onto his arm.

“She’s not trying to pity us, it was just curiosity!” Sumire begged. “Please calm down!”

The ‘psychotic rage’ faded almost as quickly as it appeared, but Sumire could still see Akechi was mad. He kept overestimating his own tolerance for separation, and Sumire didn’t have enough courage to tell him so. On her other side, Akira lost his composure and grabbed Sumire's other arm. His warmth helped ease Sumire’s fears.

“Um…” The fortune teller took a deep breath, and when she spoke, her country accent vanished. “I’m sorry as well. Your situation startled me, and I’m afraid that I don’t have good advice to give you.”

“It’s okay. The tip about the auras is more than we had before,” Akira said. “Could we get a reading about our fortune for tonight?”

“That’s the least I can do,” the fortune teller said. “Please, take a seat.”

They gave Sumire the seat, so that it would look more natural for Akechi and Akira to stand to each side of her.As the teller shuffled her cards, she caught Sumire’s eye. “This is hard for you as well, isn’t it?”

Sumire looked away, but she nodded.

“I thought so,” she said. “Well, let’s check the future together, shall we?”

The teller flipped cards onto the table one at a time, face-down first, and then started to flip them up, one by one. After a few flips, Akira leaned in, some curiosity in his eyes. “Senpai?”

“These cards don’t come up often.”

“Exactly how many times have you visited this woman?” Akechi commented, his tone turning the question into an accusation.

The fortune teller didn’t acknowledge Akechi’s remark. “Yes, it has been a while. A page of pentacles, nine of wands, and reversed seven of cups.”

The hair on the back of Sumire’s neck stood up. Maybe she had just been focusing too much on all these new bodily experiences since the charm started, but she felt like the world was telling her, _listen. This is important_.

“The first two cards are reinforcing each other. Page of pentacles represents skills that you’ve developed, and nine of wands embodies your will power to achieve your goal. They’re very good omens when it comes to overcoming your current challenge.” The teller tapped the last card. “Seven of cups is a warning against pursuing illusions, and when it’s reversed, it represents the confusion lifting. Assumptions you’ve made are going to fall away, and… if the first two cards are right, you’re going to be a stronger person for it.”

At her side, Akira nodded, while Akechi mumbled to himself, “We needed some _cards_ to tell us that we will defeat Maruki?” But Sumire’s skin still tingled. She felt like there was some other message, but she wasn’t certain enough about her hunch to contradict them.

“Thank you very much,” Sumire said. “I’ll—remember this.”

The fortune teller smiled at her. “That’s all I can ask.”

After bidding farewell to the fortune teller, Akira pulled them over to a corner of the street, where they cracked open some of their multitude of drinks.

“You do realize that there’s never been any kind of reputable research about the veracity of fortune telling, right?” Akechi said.

“It’s helped so far,” Akira replied, closing his eyes.

“There’s no way you empirically documented that. It’s all an unfounded correlation.”

“If things like the Metaverse are real, maybe fortune telling is too?” Sumire said. “Besides, she seemed nice.”

“She has to appear nice because she’s a con artist. An appealing first impression is critical for getting people to trust you when you don’t have their best interests at heart.”

Sumire glanced at Akira, who… still had his eyes closed? Hm. “Akechi-san, you sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“The phrase is, ‘it takes one to know one.’ And how else could that money have served the Phantom Thieves? Even twice a month, for the last six months, at a rate of five thousand yen? That estimation means you’ve spent sixty thousand yen. On _card flipping_.” At Akira’s silence, Akechi pressed, “Are you even listening to me?”

Akira’s eyes opened at last. “Sorry, what?”

“Have you, or have you not, spent sixty thousand yen on bullshit fortune telling services?”

“The Holy Stone was a hundred thousand.”

Akechi looked ready to slap Akira, so Sumire instinctually flung herself at Akechi, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Akira sidled in next to Akechi and managed to keep contact with Sumire’s hand.

“Don’t worry. She refunded it,” Akira said, though Akechi still looked pissed. “We should get to Odaiba soon.”

“We’re ready?”

“Yeah. I have to stick with my current Personas.”

“Why can’t you change them?”

“I'm suffering from an ailment.”

Sumire still had her arms around Akechi, and she mumbled into his coat collar, “I’m sorry.”

Akira reached out and patted her head. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

It was so easy to believe that when her Senpai said it, so Sumire nodded. “Okay. Then, we’ll go meet the others.”


	5. Can we get ramen every time infiltrations don't go well?

The trains helped them out again by providing a socially acceptable reason for Sumire to be sandwiched between two boys. And something about the two of them sheltering her helped her feel secure. She didn’t usually feel afraid on the trains. Sure, there were horror stories about pickpockets and gropers, but Sumire had only encountered rude people in the subway, not nefarious ones. Still, being protected like this made her smile.

_Like my own sword and shield! Or… a grenade and bomb shelter? Maybe mustard gas and oxygen mask?_

She couldn’t decide on the best update to the idiom before arriving in Odaiba. In spite of coming from more places and with less warning, everyone had gathered before the charmed trio arrived.

“Yo, how was playing hooky?” Ryuji gave Akira a fist-bump. With Akira’s arm flung across Sumire’s shoulder, she felt him shrug.

“We made it through without any major problems!” Sumire said. “A few brief separations, but otherwise fine. And we have most of a battle strategy ready!”

“Obviously, the rest of you will be responsible for actually killing our enemies,” Akechi took over the tactical explanation. “We can provide tactical support and gunfire in most situations. Power improvements, healing—”

"Nope."

“No healing? Are you serious?”

“Couldn’t change Personas.”

“Hey, what about Robin Hood? Does he still exist?” Ryuji suggested.

Akechi’s attention _snapped_ to Ryuji. With a tone almost as cold as when Akechi had brushed off the fan at the bakery, he snapped, “When there’s a need for your insipid suggestions, you’ll be informed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, smart-ass?!”

“Both of you, stop it!” Makoto stepped in first. “We will assume that Robin Hood is not available as a tactical resource. Is that fair to say?”

This exchange _meant_ something to everyone else, but Sumire felt lost. She glanced at Akechi, but before her mouth even opened, she felt Akira’s hand squeeze on her shoulder. _Don’t pry_.

The group confirmed their readiness and entered the Palace with Sumire lost in thought. Robin Hood… Akechi… Having the same powers as Akira… comments about his Metaverse outfit… the pretense of a righteous, sincere Detective Prince…

_…Akechi-san had a second Persona?_

As the group navigated the Palace, back to the point they had stopped yesterday, Sumire kept pondering the question. Was this like with her and Cendrillon, where she had a false awakening first, and a true one later? Or like how Akira changed Personas, fast as a twisting kaleidoscope? Was this ‘Robin Hood’ actually gone, or did using him disgust Akechi so much that he wouldn’t consider it? And if so, why was he disgusted?

_Always more questions than answers when it comes to Akechi-san._ Sumire just did her best to hang onto Akira’s hand. Focus on the known, not the unknown.

They passed the safe room from yesterday and found a few shadows patrolling a corner. Sumire stayed close to Akira’s back as he peered around the corner, checking the routes and seeing if there was a way through.

“Orders, Joker?” Makoto asked in a whisper.

“One has to go,” he told her, then pointed to the target. “Can you ambush that one?”

Makoto took a deep breath. “In all honesty, I wish I could see an ambush one more time for reference…”

Akira nodded, and reached around to take hold of Sumire’s hand.

“Senpai, are you sure about this?”

He nodded. “Done it a thousand times.”

A second later, Akira stepped away from the wall and fired his grappling hook. It struck one shadow square in the shoulder and dragged it close with a _whoosh._ He released Sumire’s hand, leapt up onto the shadow’s back, and dug his fingers under the edge of the shadow’s mask.

“ _I’ll reform your true veal!_ ”

Somewhere further back, Ann whispered, “Wait, what?”

Instead of noticing the mangled phrasing, Sumire caught onto Akira’s stance immediately. Watching other gymnasts on balance beams and the vault gave her a sense of where feet should be planted and weight should be distributed. Akira’s pose on the shadow’s shoulders couldn’t be more wrong if he was trying.

Akira pulled, but the mask didn’t peel off. It stayed stuck firm, and Akira’s grip catapulted himself forward instead. He flipped over the shadow’s head and slammed on the floor. The wind knocked out of him with a surprised wheeze as the shadow looked down… and started to advance.

“Joker!”

“No!”

Morgana kept his wits close enough that he rushed the shadow and slashed his falchion across its back, causing it to melt into a few monster forms. The Thieves took their positions and started the fight normally, the element of surprise lost.

Sumire wanted to sneak her way across the battlefield, but Akechi held her back—she had to admit, with good reason. The vanguard had their hands full without trying to protect Sumire, and so long as they kept attacking, the shadows wouldn’t turn on the defenseless Joker. Gradually, the monsters dissolved into smoke, and Sumire ran for Akira’s side.

“That went atrociously, wouldn’t you agree, Joker?” Akechi couldn’t resist a snide comment as they drew near.

“Cry me a table,” Akira grumbled. Sumire knelt and gave him her hand. He curled against his chest like a rose for a corpse and closed his eyes.

“Can you stand?” Haru asked with concern. Akira held up a finger. “I’m not sure we can wait.”

“If you don’t get up, I’m going to make you Yoshizawa-san’s backpack,” Akechi threatened.

“Hey! Code names!” Morgana insisted.

Akira curled to a sitting position, then stood up. Sumire could still see Akechi’s frown in the slit of his helmet, but Akira ignored it. He turned to Makoto and patted her on the shoulder. “Just don’t do _that_ , and you’ll be fine.”

“R-Roger.”

They proceeded, and only got in a handful more fights. Makoto couldn’t master the mask-ripping ambush in a single day, but she made advantageous choices about when to strike and gave good orders in battle. Unfortunately, without three of their fighters, combat dragged. People bled.

“I’m so sorry,” Sumire told the group as they passed out medicine and vegetables in a hallway. “I know you said I didn’t make a mistake, but I’m still sorry.”

“It’s okay, Violet,” Haru said.

“But we wouldn’t be having anywhere near this much trouble if not for the charm…”

“We agreed that you were not responsible for the charm ailment,” Yusuke reminded her.

Futaba did hum a little, displeased. “I mean, we’re still in a tight spot. The party balance is now four supporters and six fighters. It’s just tough no matter how you slice it.”

“That’s what the extra medicines are for,” Akira said.

“And you’re sure you’re not hurt, from that, um, backflip?” Ann asked.

“I’ll be fine.”

_Senpai is so selfless…_

They pushed forward until they reached a corridor filled with vines, trees, and a kind of sunset air about it. As much as Sumire wanted to dwell on the imagery there—the cognitions, the flowers, the statues—she could only think about the odds of combat ahead. Futaba’s scans only showed a few shadows, so that was encouraging.

“So if we change the lighting, the available paths will change?” Yusuke asked. “I can assist with the color mixing. It’s the most basic skill of an artist.”

“Yeah, but how’re we gonna know which direction we should be going? This place is _massive_!” Ryuji said.

Akira just looked at the first lighting terminal. “Then we better start.”

* * *

If Sumire had to guess, they spent anywhere between thirty minutes and thirty hours trying to figure out the colored light maze. Akira, Makoto, and Akechi all had strong logic skills, but at least half the time, one of them disagreed about the correct path forward. Sumire and the others could do little more than vote on the solution. On top of that, after a few attempts, all three had given at least one wrong answer, which cast doubt on all their future suggestions.

_It’s like top students in the grade get different answers on a test, and you don’t know which one you trust most._

After a grueling amount of time spent flipping switches and running up and down paths, they finally reached the end. More secrets about Maruki's power and determination were laid bare, and they used that information to continue down a long hallway. At the end, powerful shadow waited for them. It melted into a human figure in red armor without even a chance to ambush.

And the fight went… very poorly. The shadow had a lot of resistances, and since Akira wasn’t on the front lines, he couldn’t switch though his arsenal of Personas to either create or follow up on openings. The shadow kept getting up and it kept hurting Sumire’s friends. Then they had to waste time healing themselves, which meant they were only chipping away at its health…

“How much longer are we gonna keep this up?!” Ryuji asked.

“As long as we have to!” Ann vowed, but Sumire could see her staggering.

No matter how much they reassured her that this wasn’t her fault, the thought kept springing up again and again. She wasn’t talented enough. She was holding them back. They didn’t need her. Sumire just gritted her teeth and fired her pistol in between her friends, shot after shot after shot.

After Morgana fell and needed a resurrection, Makoto finally ordered: “Retreat!” Like clouds across the moon, the Thieves knew how to slip back and run away from the fight, gathering up at the other side of the hallway.

“We’re so close to the treasure! It’s literally just on the other side of that door!” Futaba cried.

Morgana nodded. “We’re so close we can taste it. But we really can’t go toe-to-toe with that shadow while Joker and Crow have one hand each, and Violet has none.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sumire mumbled again, spurring a familiar chorus of reassurances.

“Oracle, can you check the duration again?” Joker asked.

Beep-beep went the visor. “I can tell that time has elapsed, roughly twenty-four hours. So it's going to break sometime between right this second and six days from now.”

“It’s like this charm is _built_ to be the most nerve-wracking thing ever,” Ann complained.

“There’s no point in bemoaning it,” Yusuke said.

“The infiltration route is basically secure,” Akira said. “As soon as the charm breaks, we can punch past that shadow.”

“What if it doesn’t break in time the for the deadline?” Haru asked.

Akira looked down and changed the subject to a new set of orders. “For now, backtrack to a safe room. Then spend the rest of our energy healing Crow.”

“You’re still the leader, you know,” Akechi protested sourly.

"We shouldn’t split the healing when there’s a chance one charm will break."

At this point, Sumire could practically impersonate the way Akechi scowled when someone else was right. “Make it quick.”

* * *

Twenty-three recovery spells and two Alert Capsules later, they left the Palace for the streets of Odaiba.

“Man, what a day. I’m feeling ramen, who’s in?” Ryuji asked the group.

As it turned out, with the late January air turning their breath into frigid clouds, everyone was in—though Akechi seemed to only agree due to the ‘tyranny of the masses’ again. They found a restaurant that let them all eat together at a traditional-style table in the back, which would let Sumire sit close to Akira and Akechi with less suspicion.

When the server asked for Sumire’s order, she remembered Akechi’s stunned reaction to her pastry order that morning and felt her ears turn red. She had an appetite for two bowls, but ordered just one and a side of gyoza.

Immediately after, Akira ordered two bowls, one of them a duplicate of Sumire’s. Akechi fixed him with a stare, which Akira met with a perfect poker face.

_No matter what, Senpai is so kind._

“So, you’re just past twenty-four hours of charm?” Ann said, sounding more like she was thinking aloud. “Ours broke after the second night, so maybe it’s close…”

“Are you three sure that you’re holding up okay?” Makoto asked. Akira nodded, and Akechi didn’t grace the question with a reply. “And there were no lingering effects from the overnight separation?”

“I’ve been with them all day, and so long as we stay in contact, everything is pretty normal,” Sumire assessed.

“Man, overnight though,” Ryuji said with a wince. “I dunno how you guys did it. My head would have exploded.”

“Akira got close a few times!” Futaba sing-songed.

“Can you leave me a little dignity?” Akira requested, but with a fond tone, like he knew he might as well ask for the moon.

“There’s not enough instant yakisoba in Tokyo to buy my silence!”

Sumire looked between the Thieves, hoping they wouldn't hate her for asking this question. “How long had you been separated from Akira-senpai last time?”

Morgana poked his head up from Akira’s bag to answer. “Thirty minutes, almost exactly. It was a sorry sight to behold.”

“If it's not too rude, how did each of you respond?”

“I mentioned it sometime last night,” Futaba said. “I couldn’t stop crying whenever Akira and I made like bananas and split. That’s kind of my default response when things get overwhelming."

“I’m so sorry, Futaba-senpai."

“Eh, don’t be. I’ve gained like thirty levels since then. And besides, Inari was the most insufferable one, hands down!”

“That’s absolutely not true,” Yusuke denied, sparking an argument.

They didn’t present the information in any kind of neat or orderly fashion. The ensuing debate reminded Sumire of scenes from movies or dramas about squabbling families with long memories, digging up old dirt to fling at each other. They grew so lively that arriving ramen bowls barely got acknowledged as their owners dug in and used the food as fuel to keep arguing. But, in spite of embarrassment and wounded pride on all fronts, Sumire heard _love_ running under their every word.

Under the charm, Yusuke had succumbed to despair colored with the dramatic spirit of his paintings. Ann’s long-buried sensitivity to other people’s labels had revived, making her feel unworthy and unlovable. Ryuji’s sense of patience and justice had reverted to a five-year-old’s as he demanded his fair share of Akira’s body. And Makoto’s usually-reassuring forethought had devolved into outright paranoia as she imagined a million bloody deaths for Akira every second that she didn’t have contact with him.

“No, Haru was the worst! Without a doubt!” Ann decided, before blowing on her noodles.

Haru looked to Akira, worry on her face. “I wasn’t truly the worst, was I?”

“The ‘worst’ one was whoever I couldn’t satisfy in the moment,” Akira said, taking the middle path. 

Ryuji winced from further down the table. “Phrasing, dude.”

“How did Haru-senpai react?”

The older girl covered her face with her hands. “I… threatened my friends with violence…”

“You promised to use Ryuji’s skull as a planter at one point,” Yusuke recalled. “It’s quite an evocative image. The seeds of life bursting forth from an emblem of death…”

“Plus, it’d be the first time Ryuji’s head would have anything useful in it,” Morgana said with a feline smile.

“I swear, you damn cat—!”

Laughter chased though the table, which Makoto ignored. She looked between Sumire and the two boys with a tentatively pleased expression. “I do have to admit, it looks like you’ve found a very good arrangement for the time being. If you were able to do errands around the city, it has to be pretty functional.”

“Functional is the right word,” Akira said.

“A sleepover should help you three really unwind,” Ann added. “Actually, some of my favorite memories with everyone here happened when we were charmed, and we had that sleepover at Leblanc! When the charm was kept in check, everything was _perfect._ ”

Akechi sipped a water and set it down. “Then, it’s no wonder such a deplorable ailment appeared in Maruki’s Palace.”

“Dr. Maruki has nothing to do with creating the charm,” Haru stated. “We encountered it in Mementos months ago.”

“He didn’t create it, but it’s perfectly in line with his twisted ideals. A blissful reality so long as you wholly unite with his correct philosophy? The connections are obvious once you look for them. It’s rather surprising we didn’t encounter it earlier.”

“You’re reading too deep into it,” Akira said, a bit quietly.

“Am I? Because everything in this dream reality is tailor-made to prey on an individual’s deepest yearnings for love and acceptance, like receiving those things balances out the loss of free will. The charm mimics that in a physical way.”

“You’re upset that you’re being forced to rely on someone. That’s it.”

Akechi glared like he wanted to hit Akira. “What do _you_ know about why I’m upset?”

Sumire acted on instinct. She twisted to embrace Akechi with as much contact between their bodies as she could muster. His form beneath her felt strong, the way piano wire held tension, and he smelled like wool and freshwater and that soft shampoo scent, and Sumire couldn’t stop thinking, _enough, enough, that’s enough, you can stop, please just stop, please stop hurting, please stop hurting others and please stop hurting yourself…_

The restaurant’s ambient noises continued around them, but Sumire could tell the whole table had gone silent. And she was still hugging Akechi. And at her back, Akira had leaned over and hugged her from behind, because her sudden movement had dislodged him.

“It’s okay,” Sumire whispered into his collar. “You’re right, we can’t understand what it’s like for you, but there's no point in lashing out. We don't want to fight, so… please…”

He didn’t say anything back to Sumire. The best she had to go on was the gradual slow of his heartbeat against her own. She had no idea what she looked like, or what Akechi or Akira looked like smushed up against her, but she squeezed her eyes shut and waited.

After a minute, Akechi patted her arm. “Let go of me,” he requested, with a tone that let her know he meant it politely, even if he omitted all the polite words. She leaned back, still keeping a hand on him, until they gradually settled back into their normal position. Akechi’s right hand in her left, Akira’s arm on her shoulders.

“…Sumire,” Morgana spoke up. “Are you really going to be okay overnight?”

“Wh—Why wouldn’t I be?” Sumire asked.

“You have fewer individuals to manage than Akira did, but last time, jealousies and anger only appeared when people were separated from the charm’s target,” he explained. “This situation is different. And like I told you earlier, this is a marathon. Putting your own needs first isn’t selfish, it’s a critical tactical move.”

Sumire looked first to Akechi. He had his eyes closed and his chin tilted down, a complete disengagement from the conversation that he surely could still hear. Maybe it was to avoid blame for lashing out at Akira, maybe it was to cope with the way everyone was discussing him like a liability. Then she looked to Akira, meeting his gray eyes. He carried the same concern as Morgana. When Sumire looked to the rest of the table, she could see the worry matched on everyone’s else’s faces as well.

She didn’t understand why Akechi hated pity so much. When Kasumi had been alive, Sumire got so little recognition, sometimes pity was the only reason people looked at her at all. And even now, with the people who helped her move past her pain, their pity reminded her that she mattered to them. They valued her enough that they wouldn’t just charge ahead to their goals if they thought she would get hurt. Any time she showed pain, they stopped and they listened to her.

It felt nice.

“Thank you very much for the reminder, but I’ll be fine,” Sumire said. “And if I stop being fine, I know exactly who I’ll call. I really appreciate all of your help.”

“Of course,” Makoto said. “After all, you’re one of us.”

Sumire smiled, and everyone returned to their bowls with more normal conversation, not worried about the Palace or anything. Akechi and Akira didn’t say anything to each other directly for the rest of the meal, and squished between them, Sumire could feel a static-electric energy building in each of them. She tried to put out of her mind how it might release.

At the end of the meal, Haru stood. “Why don’t I settle the bill, and you all decide what we’ll do next?”

“Haru, you payin’?! For real!?” Ryuji exclaimed.

“My household staff sees my spending history, so I have to be careful of suspicious transactions,” Haru explained. “But I know I can explain that I wanted to have an outing with friends! Please excuse me!”

“Rich people have some seriously scary accountants,” Futaba commented.

“So are you three gonna stay at Leblanc, like we did last time?” Ann asked.

“I would prefer not to,” Akechi said, with a sour tone that transformed his polite words into something seething, like he'd said, _"I'd rather die."_

_How does Akechi-san do that? It’s like he can turn his voice inside-out._

“The only other option is your place, since Sumire lives with her parents.”

“I fully understand that there’s no truly appealing option here, but at least my apartment has a private shower.”

“That’s quite the luxury,” Yusuke said with a solemn nod.

“It looks like most Metaverse activities are cancelled for now as well,” Makoto said. “Unless you want us to explore some of the higher floors of Mementos, to raise funds or stay limber?”

Akira shook his head. “Nope. Rest day.”

“So then what are you going to do all day tomorrow?”

“We’ll swing by Leblanc first. I’ll pack a bag.”

“I packed my essentials this morning, so I’m ready,” Sumire said.

“You want any of us to come by?” Ryuji suggested.

Sumire felt Akechi’s hand tighten, but Akira answered first, “We’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay—but Sumire, seriously! Take care of yourself!” Ann told her. “Those boys won’t explode if you need some fresh air! Call me and we’ll have a quick girl’s outing!”

“Thank you, Ann-senpai. I’m grateful for your support.” Sumire said with a smile.

Haru returned with the settled bill, and they all split off for home again. It took longer to arrive at Leblanc than it did for Akira to pack. He threw a bag together with such expert haste, Sumire barely caught sight of what went into it. Sojiro bid them goodnight with a simple nod, and they left.

Once back at Akechi's apartment, they took turns brushing teeth with the door propped open so that the two others could stay close. Then pajamas—Sumire’s acrobatic body helped her twist far enough to keep contact with the boys even while changing clothes behind their backs—then lights out, then lying down. The mattress was narrower than Sumire was used to, but still comfortable. Akechi pressed to her back, and Akira facing her front.

"How are you doing?" Akira checked with a whisper.

"I'm fine. A little stressed, but fine."

"It's gonna be okay."

She smiled in the darkness. "Thank you."

The conversation seemed over, and she let her eyes drift shut, but then Akira spoke again, in a low voice that sent delighted tingles down her spine. "Hey... would you pet my hair?"

Her eyes flew open and she answered with a squeak, "I can? I mean, y-you want me to?"

Akira just nodded. So Sumire reached out and sank her fingertips into Akira’s mop of hair. He kept it very clean, the cowlicks and curls forming a dark, fluffy cloud, tangled up but parting easily between her fingers. She smiled to herself and kept petting until she felt Akira grow still and fall asleep.

…Okay, she kept petting while he slept, too. She only truly stopped when she succumbed to sleep herself.


	6. "Boys will be boys" was never meant for these boys

Sunday morning strolled through the window blinds, in no hurry to arrive. Sumire wasn’t in any hurry to get out of bed either. It was just so _comfortable,_ and the bodies cuddled close put pressure on her in all sorts of soothing ways. Maybe she shouldn’t get up at all and just enjoy cuddling today.

 _Akechi-san behind me, Senpai in front of me…_ The lazy, hazy memory of Akira requesting hair pats made Sumire smile, so she reached out one hand and brushed her fingers against Akira’s head in front of her. It felt just as nice as the night before, so she got right back to it, threading her fingers through his hair and enjoying how silky and long it was.

Wait.

Silky? Long?

Sumire felt a crack through her lazy Sunday mood like a fracture in a frozen lake. She opened her eyes to see she had rolled over in her sleep. Akira lay behind her, and his breath puffed gently against her neck.

She had her fingers in _Akechi’s_ hair.

And Akechi’s eyes were open.

An icy panic flooding her body, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—I’ll stop!”

“Why?” he said, voice scratchy from sleep. “I don’t mind.”

“You… don’t mind? That I’m… um…”

“Feels good.”

Okay. Okay, even if Sumire found it strange, she greatly preferred this response to Akechi’s usual ‘I don’t need your worthless pity’ attitude. So she resumed, brushing his long brown hair back from his forehead, slow and repetitive. Akechi’s eyes closed, making her wonder if he was going back to sleep.

_Is this what petting a cobra feels like? It's… kind of nice…_

Even with a head full of worries about whether or not she could trust Akechi’s request for affection as sincere or something he’d berate her for after the charm wore off, the movement of her hand had a soothing quality to it. Not to mention, Akechi took _very_ good care of his hair. It really could pass for silk.

She felt her own eyes sliding closed again when Akira shifted behind her. First, he pulled close to hug her, making the comfortable warmth in her body turn to a blazing heat on her face and behind her ears.

After a minute, Akira half-mumbled, “Sound off?”

“…Are you asking if we’re awake?” Sumire clarified. He’d do that in the Metaverse, to check in with everyone after a battle. Kind of cute that he’d do it in real life.

“Mm.”

“Akechi-san may have gone back to sleep.”

“No, I’m awake.”

“Feeling okay?” Akira checked.

“Yeah… Nothing hurts.”

Sumire couldn’t put her finger on what exactly was strange about his voice. And that phrasing, ‘nothing hurts?’ It made her shiver. “Was something hurting before?”

“Intensely,” Akechi said. “It's gone, though.”

Akira stiffened behind her. Unsure of what to do, Sumire suggested, “Why don’t we have some breakfast? Or at least some coffee? I think that will help us wake up.”

Their six-legged beast moved from the bed to the kitchen. As the vertex of the other two, Sumire mostly had to stay still and wait until someone needed her to move to let them reach something else. Akechi toasted bread in a pan over his stove, to be followed with some eggs. One of the things Akira nabbed from Leblanc turned out to be ground coffee, so he used Akechi’s French press and served them each a comforting mug.

“How will we spend today?” Sumire asked. “I should probably get some studying done, since I missed school.”

“That could work. Akechi?”

“Sure.”

They settled on the floor around Akechi’s table. Sumire spread out her notebooks for review, with Akira sitting across from her. Their feet connected under the table, so Akira could keep his head on straight and his hands free to bury in the junk he brought from Leblanc: bits of metal and twine and gummy plant residue. She kept glancing up from her homework to watch his clever hands twist and bend raw materials into familiar little gizmos that the team used in the Metaverse.

Akechi sat back-to-back with Sumire. He said nothing while he read a book. His pressure stayed respectfully consistent, to the point that Sumire forgot the force was from _him_ a few times. It felt like she was sitting in a particularly solidly backed chair until she had to lean and her shoulder blade shifted against his.

At least Sumire had studying help nearby. “Sorry, Senpai? If I’m trying to find this angle, then I can do a cosine of the opposite side, right?”

Behind her, Akechi spoke up. “That’s a sine.”

Sumire startled a little, then looked at Akira. “Is it?”

Akira’s features looked stiff, almost stern, looking over Sumire’s shoulder at Akechi. Then he nodded.

She wrote down that note and finished the problem, but her focus was splintering again. Akechi’s strange behavior lingered. They’d been awake long enough she couldn’t blame it on sleepiness. It had a lot in common with lethargy, but without the slowness. Was he bored? If he was bored, why wasn’t he asking for them to do something more interesting? They were staying in his own room, surely this was where he kept all of his hobbies. And if he thought Sumire was boring, he clearly had the wit to direct his complaints at Akira, who he _could_ criticize, and who could handle the flak.

By the time noon arrived, Sumire’s brain cried in protest of the information overload. Akira had run out of bits and bobs to play with. Sumire had no idea if Akechi had made progress reading his book or not.

“Hey, let’s get groceries,” Akira suggested. “I can make a stir fry.”

“Sounds like it’ll be yummy. Can I help this time? It’s only fair since you both made breakfast.”

Akechi nodded. “The store’s nearby.”

_Since when did Akechi-san talk less than Senpai?_

Sumire sliced vegetables, and Akira sautéd, and Akechi just stayed close. The stir fry turned out delicious, because of course anything made by Akira would be. She let the boys take plates before she ate the remaining triple-portion one plate at a time until nothing remained. Unlike any other time Akechi had been in the presence of her eating absurd amounts of food, he had basically no reaction.

“Is there anything else we could be doing to prepare for the Palace?” Sumire asked.

Akira frowned, seeming a little frustrated. “Not much beyond keeping in shape.”

“Oh! Would you want to train some more?”

“It’ll be tough, but we should."

They pushed the table to the side and maximized the space in the center of the room, which was still only enough for one person to stretch out. Sumire moved slowly through her stretches so that the boys could keep hands connected to her shoulders. Her hands had to support her own weight too often for hand-holds, and anywhere else would get… awkward. Akira did his best to mimic her motions after, and Akechi sat by, watching but not really engaging with any of it.

_Is he in a trance? Asking Senpai about it when Akechi-san can clearly hear us is rude._

Sumire finished up her stretches, though Akira still felt like training. They spent a little time negotiating which exercises he could do that would let Sumire sit nearby and keep in contact. She sat on the bed next to Akechi while Akira shifted into a push-up position, Sumire’s feet balanced on his back.

“What were you reading earlier?” Sumire asked. If she got to the bottom of what was wrong with Akechi, that would make life easier for Akira. Maybe all he needed was for them to engage with him more.

“A novel I picked up a few months ago,” Akechi answered.

“Are you excited about it?”

“Not really. I just never had the chance to read it until now.”

“What genre is it?”

“A mystery.”

“That’s kind of funny, for a detective to read mystery novels in his spare time.”

“I suppose. I don’t usually enjoy many of them.”

Sumire’s feet dipped and rose as Akira pressed his body down and up, steady as a metronome. “If you don’t enjoy them, why do you keep reading them?”

“ _Some_ are exquisite,” Akechi said, a little more life coming into his tone, but it didn’t exactly sound like _him_. Not the Detective Prince, not the bloodthirsty warrior, and not the erudite egotist between the two. All the elements of Akechi that she knew blended together to create a diluted self. “Two of my favorites are memoirs from actual police officers. They probably don’t count as mysteries, but they follow the genre's conventions well.”

“What sets the truly great mystery stories apart from the average ones?”

“In a fiction story, a reader has expectations that details presented will hold relevance later. The best writers are the ones that can disguise what purpose the details hold. For example, the true cause of death was poison, and the knife was planted after to frame an innocent party,” Akechi explained. “Real crime scenes don’t separate relevant from irrelevant details, but it’s bad writing for a mystery novelist to include useless information because it denies readers the opportunity to engage with the plot.”

Sumire blinked at Akechi. That was more than he had _ever_ said to her. On top of that, his bland, half-empty tone was the most friendly he had been to her since she learned about his true nature just after New Year’s. But in spite of the dull tone and the strange openness, the topic kind of fascinated Sumire. She had never thought to look at writing that way.

“I see, that makes sense. So, you do prefer actual crimes?”

“Absolutely. If a mystery novel is a jigsaw puzzle, then real crimes are like shattered pottery that I need to put back together with melted gold.”

“I’ve heard of that—kintsugi!”

“Right. Unlike the clean lines of jigsaw puzzle pieces, cut in a way to ensure the full picture comes back together perfectly, a real mystery has shards missing. Even when it’s all assembled, the final picture will forever show that it was once broken. Knowing how true mysteries are solved steals enjoyment from fictional ones.”

Akira stopped his push-ups. He reached around for Sumire’s ankle so he could twist himself into a cross-legged sitting position. “You staged… your cases,” he stated, a bit out of breath.

“I earned fame for solving cases of psychotic breakdown because those were fictional from the start. But once my notoriety grew, the police put me on a few other crimes of similar caliber. I solved three actual cases unrelated to Shido’s conspiracy.”

Figuring she should be supportive, Sumire said, “That’s incredible.”

Akira’s mouth set into a hard line. “Are you ready to fight Maruki?”

The abrupt subject change made Sumire start, but Akechi didn't blink. “I was ready before. I’ll be ready again.”

“The charm might not break before the deadline.”

“It’s impossible for us to fight like this. You saw what happened yesterday. There’s no point in wasting our energy when the outcome is settled; the charm will break, or it won’t.” Akechi said. Even as he spelled out their dire straits, his tone stayed disinterested.

“So if the charm doesn’t break, you’ll let Maruki win?”

“It’s not like we’re in any state to oppose him.” Akechi snorted as a funny thought seemed to cross his mind. “Actually, why don’t we ask for an extension? This is hardly our fault that this happened, and Maruki can’t consider an abstention to be our true answer.”

“He will, and you know it. He’s going to force through unless we stop him.”

Akechi wasn’t looking at Akira. “Trust me, I did it all the time. It went something like this: ‘I’m incredibly sorry, but due to circumstances beyond my control, I will not be able to complete your assignment on time. Please accept my apologies, and I will ensure the final product exceeds your expectations.’ Surely Maruki can’t resist the pleas of humble students.”

Even to Sumire’s ears, those Princely words sounded… thin. Akechi couldn’t even muster up effort to lie properly.

Akira stood up. He offered his hand to Sumire, who took it, almost on reflex.

Then Akira _pulled._ Sumire stumbled off the bed and forward into the room, hard enough that she only caught her weight behind Akira. She turned to see Akira step in between her and Akechi.

“What are you—”

Then she heard the sound of a fist connecting with skin. Akechi crumpled onto his bed.

“Will you wake up already?!” Akira demanded.

Akechi leaned up, one hand covering his reddened cheek, and his eyes locked on Akira with his familiar and furious glare. “You piece of shit—!”

Akira’s left hand reached behind him to push Sumire back. She went along with it, too confused to resist. Akira took a step back just in time for Akechi to surge up and throw a fist of his own. It connected, but Akira let his head roll, and he stayed tall and ready to fight.

“Wait—Senpai!”

Sumire reached forward, trying to brush against Akechi and diffuse his psychotic rage, but Akira kept blocking. He strafed on the balls of his feet to always stay between Akechi and Sumire. For his part, Akechi either didn't seem concerned with the charm, or thought that the best way to get back in contact with Sumire was to shred Akira to pieces. He threw blow after blow, Akira deflecting with his one free arm or shrugging off like a martial artist.

_What am I supposed to do!?_

If she let go of Akira, Akechi would overpower him instantly. But would she be able to stop Akechi's rage before he tore Akira's throat out? Akira didn't seem like he had a strategy for beating Akechi beyond keeping Sumire away from him. His hand behind his back stayed loose, keeping just enough contact with Sumire's fingers that he stayed lucid, but not enough to control her movements. It was like he expected Sumire to side with him. Of course she sided with him, he was her senpai, leader of the Phantom Thieves... but he also sucker-punched Akechi, and she couldn't begin to guess why!

Would she find her answer if she kept assuming Akira was good and Akechi was evil?

Sumire let go of Akira’s hand.

The change hit instantly. Akira’s ankle rolled with his next step, and he stumbled, and when Akechi next swung with his left hand, the punch collided like a knockout. Sumire saw Akira’s face as he crumbled, and she could see… shock.

And then she had to stop worrying about Akira’s shock, because now Akechi had him flat on the ground. His hands wrapped around Akira’s neck and started to _squeeze_. A choked gasp escaped Akira's lips.

“No! Stop!” Sumire called. “You can’t— _Akechi! Stop!_ ”

The dropped honorific did… something. Akechi looked up from his chokehold and glared at Sumire. She had never lived with a pet, but a gut feeling told her this had something in common with handling a large and disobedient dog.

“Let go of him!” she ordered. “Drop him! I said, _drop!_ ”

Akechi’s hands loosened from Akira’s throat. His fingers still looked twisted, tense, like he wanted to tear something apart with his bare hands. Beneath him, Akira drew a ragged breath.

“Now, _off_!” Sumire persisted, pointing away from Akira. “Go to the bed! Go!”

He gritted his teeth, but at least he wasn’t hurting Akira anymore. Maybe it was safe enough to touch him and calm him down? Sumire took one step forward, palms before her, and Akechi finally moved, scrambling off of Akira.

“No, no, no,” Akechi whispered, but that _snarl_ was back in his voice. “Get away from me, I won’t let you, I won't—!”

"Akechi-san, I just want to—”

“No! No, stay away! Stay the hell away from me!” Akechi demanded. His hands twisted around to grip at his shirt again, pulling at fabric like he was going to tear it off.

Sumire felt a touch on her ankle, and looked down to see Akira had moved. Oh, now that she had Akechi off of him, he just wanted everything to go back to normal? Even after he was the one who started a fight?!

“Senpai, stand up,” she said, offering her hand, which Akira instantly took. Once on his feet, Sumire took a few steps toward the door, unlocking it and opening it.

Then it was _her_ turn to push. With one shove at his back, Akira fell forward into the hallway. Sumire shut and locked the door behind her.

“Hey—Hey!” Through the door, she heard Akira, and he started knocking. “I’m a blame?! Sumire, please! Just dorpen the—ugh, let in the me—”

As the charm scrambled Akira, Sumire held her chin up and ignored him, stepping closer to Akechi. “Are you okay?”

“It’s wrong, wrong, all of this is wrong—” Akechi rambled. “I’m gonna die one way or another, they’re gonna kill me, one of them is gonna break me—I have to kill them first! Slaughter them, tear them apart, piece by piece—!”

“Get a hold of yourself! Um, hey—look at me!” Sumire had no idea what she’d do, but it sounded like the thing that first responders in TV dramas said. He did swivel his face up to her, twisted and angry and in _pain_ —

_Oh._

She held her hands up, but stayed far enough away from Akechi so he could tell she wasn’t going to touch him. “Akechi-san, I’m going to talk with Senpai. Will you be okay without me?”

He was still shaking, twisted, curled on himself like she found him yesterday morning.

“Maybe you won’t feel okay, but… I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I promise, I’m going to come back, and you’re going to be okay.”

His hands drifted from his back to his scalp, tearing at the silky hair that Sumire had started her day petting. But he dropped his head and said nothing. That seemed like the best answer she’d get. She stood up and found his keys as a precaution, then went to the door.

In the hallway, Akira had crumpled over too. The instant he saw Sumire, he launched himself up, kneeling on the floor and hugging her around the legs. A sigh of relief left him as whatever energy the charm stole from him returned.

“Senpai, I can’t walk like this.”

“Then don’t.”

Exasperated, she demanded, “You punched Akechi-san! In the face! Why would you do that?”

A little further down the hallway, a neighbor's door opened. Akira stood fast as a flickering shadow, holding Sumire’s hand like a normal person.

A woman poked her face out. “Excuse me, is everything okay? We heard shouting through the wall.”

Sumire waved her hand. “Oh, no! Everything is okay! It was all an accident, but thank you for your concern.”

The woman still looked suspicious—does Sumire look like she’s freaking out? She feels like freaking out—but she returned to her apartment and closed her door.

Okay. Okay, they just raised the security level. Sumire couldn’t afford another violent outburst. And she couldn’t afford to leave Akechi alone for too long either. Even if he had survived being alone overnight, that stinging pain on his face must be reminding him what Akira did every single second.

She gripped Akira’s hand a little harder and walked down the hallway. “We need to find a place to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly PSA that comment moderation has been turned on. I wrote this story to have fun and entertain others. I understand that Poly!Royal Trio is a controversial ship, and I will not allow my comment section to become a discourse forum.
> 
> If you don't like this story or the ships in it, please don't read it.


	7. Broken, wicked, lovely... at least I'm not lonely

Three streets down from Akechi’s building, they found a tiny sandlot with playground equipment for children. No one was out in the cold, so they had plenty of privacy. Sumire chose a bench for them to sit on. Akira sat with his side pressed against her, and Sumire didn’t see a point in making him separate. She was upset with him, but he was warm, and she’d get more intelligible answers out of him if he stayed connected.

They sat together a moment. Sumire figured she was waiting for Akira to say something, but Akira stayed silent. She usually admired that about him. The quiet strength, the introspection, the gentle patience.

Right now, it kind of made her mad.

“I don’t suppose you can explain yourself?” Sumire started, trying to imitate Makoto’s strength.

“It won’t happen again,” Akira told her immediately.

“But why did you even feel the need to hurt Akechi-san?”

“He needed to snap out of it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with him acting a little strange. He'll be back to normal once the charm wears off.”

“Sure,” Akira agreed grudgingly.

“What had he done that he needed to be snapped out of? Was it because he did the Detective Prince voice again?”

“No, I kinda like that.”

Sumire’s ire cracked with confusion. “You _like_ when he acts like a Detective Prince?”

“Yeah. It’s like seeing your girlfriend wear fishnets.”

As his sentence finished, Akira’s cheeks went _very_ red. Sumire stared at him, her mouth open in surprise, waiting for him to clarify. But then she waited more, and more and more, and Akira kept his mouth shut tight. Like he knew that the next thing he said would make things worse. But on the other hand, Akira owed her an answer, because she now had a mental image of Akechi in fishnets, and that was _not_ her favorite.

She took a breath. “What do you mean by that?”

“Be more specific, so I don’t run my mouth?” he asked in a hurry.

His own desperation made Sumire’s face burn. She knew exactly what side of his statement she wanted to pursue— _do you think of Akechi-san as your girlfriend?_ —but she knew the answer was more than she wanted to handle right now. The fishnets mental image was already too much. Fighting to drag her mind back on track, Sumire cleared her throat. “What, um, appeals to you about Akechi-san pretending to be a Detective Prince?”

“He’s _good_ at it,” Akira started. “He gets people eating out of the palm of his hand with elegance. It must have taken so much work to craft that personality. I appreciate how beautiful his lies are, since I know his true self. The difference is fun.”

Sumire thought it was more terrifying than fun to know the true Akechi, but she _had_ asked for Akira to explain himself. This was his explanation, no matter how little she understood it. “Okay, so if it wasn’t the Princely behavior… why did you hit him?”

“I got scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Remember when we were talking on the train, about secrets? I said I wouldn't get mad so long as you didn't dig?” Akira’s voice started to strain.

 _This is something Senpai would be angry if I knew?_ “I just want to get to the bottom of why you hit Akechi-san. That’s not like you to act violently.”

He wouldn’t look Sumire in the eye. “It’s exactly like me.”

“But… it can’t be, you’re… you’re not an angry person,” Sumire told him. “You’re not like Akechi-san.”

“I’m like a lot of people,” Akira said vaguely. “I’ve got hundreds of true selves.”

“But there has to be a true ‘you’ at your core, right?”

"Not really.”

Already, Sumire felt in too deep. She had been expecting an answer like ‘Akechi is my rival’ or ‘I was too pent up from staying inside.’ Instead, everything she thought she thought she knew about Akira looked shaky, ready to crumble. “How can you be a person if you don't have a true self?”

“It's hard to describe. I feel like I ‘match’ the people who matter to me,” Akira told her. “And I really like the person I am when I’m with you, Sumire. That’s why I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You’re afraid that I’ll think differently of you after this?”

“Yeah.”

Had she really never noticed that Akira's whole personality changed based on the company he kept? She spent so little time with him around other people, outside of the other Thieves, where he best embodied his leadership role. Did this mean she just didn’t know Akira at all? Was he only pretending to be 'Senpai' to make her like him?

Maybe she was naive, but she couldn’t accept that conclusion. Akira had helped her through so many problems, from mundane decisions to her struggle to live as herself. Even if he had only done that for selfish reasons—to get free coaching, or to exploit her Persona, or something base and crass like seducing her—Sumire did not believe for a second that Akira would have bothered helping her so much if he didn’t care. After all, he had so many other talented and beautiful friends. He could have just ignored her easily, but he didn’t.

“…I know you don’t want me to,” Sumire said at last. “But I need to understand you. I'm going to get to the bottom of this.”

Akira looked to her at last, a wordless plea, _don't_ , behind his glasses. She took another deep breath.

“Even if you turn out to be some kind of rotten person, I promise I won’t reject you. You’ve helped me accept who I am, and because of that, I’m strong enough to accept who _you_ are.”

“What if my true self is just like Akechi?”

She squared her shoulders. “Then that means I’ve probably misjudged Akechi-san.”

Akira smiled at that, just a little bit. She smiled back, and unbidden, remembered Akechi in fishnets. _Now’s not the time for that! Stop it!_

“I still don’t want to do this,” Akira admitted. “I don’t like talking about myself.”

“I’ve noticed,” Sumire said gently. “But maybe I can figure out most of it on my own.”

Akira settled back deeper into the bench and looked toward Sumire. Okay. Okay, she could do this.

“Akechi-san was acting strange all morning,” Sumire started. “And that behavior scared you. It’s not just that there’s a risk the charm won’t break before the deadline, because you hit Akechi-san in order to change his behavior back to normal. We were discussing Dr. Maruki at the time… Were you scared that Akechi-san would accept Dr. Maruki’s reality?”

Akira shook his head.

“Right, Akechi-san has made it clear he won’t accept this reality under any circumstances…” She was clearly missing something. “Is this still related to our fight to reclaim on our own reality?”

Akira nodded.

“Could you give me a clue?”

He won’t look her in the eye. “I was scared _I’d_ accept Maruki’s reality.”

Sumire felt a shiver down her spine and it had nothing to do with the winter chill. “Are you… serious?”

He nodded again with his eyes closed.

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“We should stop.”

“No.” Sumire clutched Akira’s hand tighter. “I told you, I want to understand you. There’s nothing you could say that would make me reject you.”

Akira met the force of Sumire’s grip, but he still didn’t open his eyes.

Sumire had committed to this. She had to figure this out. Akechi was a detective smart enough to catch thieves, and Akira was a thief smart enough to outwit detectives. Right now, Sumire felt like dead weight chained to them both.

Something about getting to the bottom of this made her feel like she might be worthy of both of them.

“Akechi-san’s behavior made you think that Dr. Maruki’s false reality might be worthwhile,” she spoke aloud. “Because… Akechi-san would be satisfied with a peaceful life as a detective? No, that can’t be right. It’s one thing for Akechi-san to accept the realty for his own sake, but he's been against Dr. Maruki from the start. Intensely, at that.”

She winced, remembering how vehemently Akechi refused every single piece of Maruki’s world, right down to nearly starting a fight during their ramen dinner over coincidental similarities between the charm ailment and the therapist’s philosophy.

“But that intensity had faded overnight,” Sumire continued. “Even though he wants to fight, he was thinking of ways to extend our deadline, and he seemed… dull? Or, absent? It’s so hard to put my finger on exactly what was wrong… It _was_ wrong, you could tell it was wrong…”

She needed a new thread. There was something she wasn’t getting, because this line of thinking kept sending her to a dead end. When she looked Akira’s way, he had his eyes open again, watching her as she puzzled through this.

“Maruki can change people,” he volunteered.

“Okay… The only way Akechi-san can be happy in Dr. Maruki’s reality is if Maruki changes him. It’s more than just his mental shutdowns being undone, Dr. Maruki would undo that Akechi-san had ever been _capable_ of mental shutdowns. Which probably means changing Akechi-san’s entire upbringing, which he doesn’t want changed.”

“I know.”

“What am I missing, Senpai?”

Akira looked at his knees, avoiding Sumire’s eyes. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Is the thing I’m missing the worst possible answer?”

Akira said nothing, so she had to be on the right track. The worst answer, worst answer, worst answer… Something despicable, vile, selfish. What could Akira possibly want that would be like that? The kindest and bravest person she knew? The one who helped her discover how to be herself, a girl she had thought was too worthless to live?

But Maruki didn’t grant evil wishes. He granted pure wishes, just with an evil method of warping reality. Like the other Thieves, who wished their families whole, their loved ones celebrated, and their talents recognized.

Then the answer struck her.

“Akechi-san is your wish.”

She could barely see it, but Akira’s head twitched, nodding.

The revelation didn't sit easy with her. She could feel some superficial jealousy, like a layer of oil on top of water. Akira cared about someone like _Akechi_ enough that it counted as his deepest wish to have Akechi in his life. Sumire didn't know all the details, but she understood that Akechi had surrendered himself to the police in Akira's place on Christmas Eve. Maruki's reality undid that, and if they reclaimed their original reality, Akechi would go back to jail. Even if he somehow didn't, Sumire knew that the Black Mask had killed both innocents and family members of the other Phantom Thieves. Akira might be forced to choose between Akechi and his other friends in a reality where the dead stayed in their graves.

“I'm so sorry, Senpai.”

Akira stayed silent. That was okay—Sumire knew he was listening, and she had more to say anyway.

“I guess your situation is unique. Your ‘wish’ is the one most aggressively demanding that you reject Dr. Maruki’s world. It probably helps keep your motivation strong.” Sumire said. “So this morning—did that give you a glimpse of what Akechi-san's personality might be like if Dr. Maruki changed him? You could envision yourself accepting a reality where Akechi-san acted like that. So you hit him, and separated him from me, to force him to go psychotic. You needed Akechi-san to be angry with you so that you could resist temptation.”

She heard a small puff of laughter escape Akira. “You’re _good_.”

Sumire smiled, her heart beating fast. “Thank you.”

“…You seriously don’t hate me?”

“Why would I?”

“I’d let a madman snap Akechi in half just so I can keep the pieces.”

Sumire flinched. She couldn’t help it. The image of a person breaking in half was so horrible. And she could see exactly where the split would be too—throw out the Black Mask and leave the Detective Prince, that pristine shell crafted to please others and nothing more. Something about when Akechi had agreed to go to the police had been painful enough for Akira that undoing that moment was his true desire. Of course Akira would be tempted to live with half of Akechi rather than lose him again.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person for having wishes,” she finally answered him. “It just makes you like the rest of us.”

Akira looked at Sumire, surprise in his gray eyes. She felt like she could finally see things clearly. She could see that Akira wasn't a perfect being free of temptation. She could see Akechi’s pain as the core of the will of rebellion they all shared. She could see how much Akechi feared being broken, like Sumire had once been shattered into pieces and rearranged into a grisly mosaic of Kasumi. She could see how much Akira feared being the one to break him.

She could see a lot of things she couldn’t see before.

“I’m still sorry,” Akira said.

“For what?”

Akira used his free hand and rubbed the back of his head. “That I’m not your cool senpai anymore.”

“You’re still my cool senpai.”

“But it's complicated now,” he said. “I think from the start, I could tell you needed someone to believe in you. You mostly saw me on my best behavior. I don't like that you know what I'm capable of.”

There was something sad about that too. “Were you only pretending to believe in me?”

“Not like that. It’s the genuine self that you bring out of me. I like being the person you think I am.”

Sumire’s face heated against the winter air in spite of herself. Still, another question crossed her mind, and she paused to phrase it correctly. “Do you like being the person that Akechi-san thinks you are?”

Akira nodded. That blush came back.

She understood far more now than she did before, yet still felt like she only scratched the surface. How could Akira be happy as Sumire’s gentle senpai _and_ Akechi’s bitter rival? Those two selves had to be completely incompatible, right? But, maybe that was just part of what made Akira so amazing. He kept surprising her.

Sumire wanted Akira to watch her. Maybe even more than before.

An idea crossed her mind. She stood up, letting Akira keep hold of both her hands, and drew them to the center of the tiny playground. When her eyes caught Akira’s, she smiled on reflex, but she gripped his hands a little harder. She planted her heels, she steeled her nerves, and she took the deepest breath she could.

Then she _screamed._

“I WANT TO STAY WHOLE!” she howled with all her might. “ _I WANT TO STAY ME!_ ”

Her voice echoed between the buildings, up to the rooftops and beyond. An odd pedestrian or two stopped and gawked at them, but Sumire didn’t pay any mind. She watched Akira nod at them, no, we’re fine, nothing to see here. Then his gaze returned to her, staring with wonder.

The smile on her face grew wider. “You’re not making this decision alone, Senpai. You know what Akechi-san’s choice is. If he stops reminding you… remember _my_ choice. Remember the choice we’re all making together. It’s the one we’re strong enough to make, because we met you. We’ll steal back to our reality together.”

Akira stared at her, eyes wide and mouth just a little bit open… and then he smiled too, and he leaned in to hug her. The hug was tight and warm, and Sumire could swear it had nothing to do with the charm.

* * *

Sumire and Akira returned to the apartment after that. She found Akechi practically where she had left him, tangled in his own body like a violent snarl. The shirt on his back had ripped and one shirtsleeve pulled away from its seams. She used the same approach as before, just sitting in front of him and putting her hand in reach. For a moment, Akechi didn’t seem to respond to her presence. Maybe he thought he had something to prove again by resisting the charm.

“Hey,” Akira said. “I’m sorry.”

With that, Akechi’s arm twisted around until his hand latched onto Sumire’s. He drew a ragged breath like a death rattle. “Don’t… patronize me…”

“He shouldn’t have hit you, and he knows that,” Sumire explained on his behalf. “It just distressed him, to see you acting strange.”

Akechi laughed thinly at that. “…I would have done the same, if he had lost his mind like that.”

“I love you, too,” Akira said, smirking.

Akechi pulled himself to a kneeling position, and Sumire leaned in to hug at about the same time Akira did. Akechi wrapped his arms around their shoulders, and they hugged together, just the three of them. Each of them broken, each of them wicked, each of them lovely.

_…I’m thinking about Akechi-san in fishnets again! Make it stop!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that comment moderation is on. This is not the place to debate characterization or canon. We're all here to have fun, y'all.


	8. I'll even dance with the likes of you

When the hug melted, Akechi and Akira were back to normal, back to work. They quickly agreed that Akechi had ‘overcharged’ on the charm after eight hours of full-body contact. A quick separation after any more sleepovers should be enough to re-balance him. Come to think of it, how should they spend the rest of the evening, before Sumire had to leave? They could go to Shibuya for a movie, where she could sit between them…

Sumire nodded along with their plan, her head too full of thoughts. She knew so much more about both of them now: how Akechi's personality needed him to carry his pain with him, how Akira had the same temptations and fears as his team, how strong both of them had to be to make it through the torments life threw their way. Her thoughts formed spirals as she ruminated deeper and deeper. She barely paid attention to anything beyond niceties as she traveled with them to Shibuya, then the theater, and scene after scene played before her.

The closing credits started to play, and Sumire hadn't absorbed a single line of dialogue. She had an epiphany instead: _I want to be their equal._

Akechi had some opinions and Akira had comments while Sumire shuffled out of the theater between them. She wished she had been paying attention, so she could be part of the conversation… but on the other hand, Sumire wouldn’t have realized how badly she wanted to stand beside them if she hadn’t taken time to think.

“Akechi-san,” Sumire interrupted. “What story should I have ready for my parents, so they'll let me stay over tomorrow?”

Akechi blinked at her, a little stunned, and beside her, she heard Akira chuckle. It made Sumire smile.

Akechi’s idea was pretty simple: a girls’ night, with Sumire able to name the rest of the Phantom Thief ladies as fellow attendees. The goal would be to help poor, heartbroken Ann-senpai remember that she should treasure her friendships more than any boyfriend. They couldn’t possibly get into any trouble with Class President Niijima-senpai in attendance, and this would be the last overnight stay Sumire would ask for—because truly, if this didn’t cure Ann’s heartbreak, no amount of companionship would. Akira and Akechi were comfortable betting on the charm being over by then, and accepted there’d only be three more rough nights if it didn’t.

She called and explained Akechi’s lie to her mother, who accepted it and promised to tell her father. “ _So we’ll see you tonight, and Tuesday?_ ”

“Yes! Thank you so much!” When they hung up, Sumire beamed at Akechi. “That worked perfectly!”

“Of course it did. I haven’t done something to make you think so little of me, have I?”

“No, I don’t think little of you at all.”

Akechi opened his mouth, but closed it.

Sumire giggled. “Are you going to lecture me with everything you wanted to say to me once this charm is over?”

“Submit all complaints in writing,” Akira quipped.

“Combing through my every complaint over the last few days to write them down would be a colossal waste of my time,” Akechi addressed Akira. Sumire’s smile only widened with pride, since she had thought of that ‘redirect criticism’ tactic yesterday.

“It’s about time to drop everyone off at home, right?” Sumire mentioned. “We’re already in Shibuya, so maybe Senpai should go first.”

They passed Akira to Futaba and Morgana’s stewardship. No one mentioned Akechi’s charm-sickness or the fist-fight that Akira provoked, simply saying the day had passed uneventfully. Morgana pressed Sumire for any sign that she needed a break, but she honestly smiled and brushed off the concern. With a final hug, she left Akira, and in spite of the sparks in her mind, Sumire and Akechi returned to his apartment in silence. She refilled his water bottle, checked on the blankets, and then gave him his own final hug before locking up his apartment.

Snow drifted around her while she walked to the station. Equals… Equals… Really, Sumire had no skills to compare to them. Sure, she was a talented gymnast, but she wouldn’t be able to catch up to their grades, or their expertise in the Metaverse, or their abilities to influence people, or how they could hold down jobs. They probably never let their phone batteries die, either.

She stopped walking and stood in the snow for a minute. The familiar voice in the back of her head hissed that she was being stupid. She’d never measure up to prodigies like Akira and Akechi. They tolerated her at best, secretly despised her at worst. Maybe openly despised her, in Akechi’s case.

With a shake of her head, hard enough to hurt her neck, she forced the voice back. Akira told her, to her face, that he liked the person he became when he was with her. And after three days of ups and downs, Sumire knew Akechi wasn't a demon from hell. He was a person: just like Akira, just like her.

Sumire took a step forward. And then another one. And on the next step, she twirled, raising her umbrella high and letting her leg spin beside her. Another twirl, and she arched her back and trailed the umbrella this time. Another twirl, another twirl, and another, and another.

Akira, a young man cast down with a criminal record and told to keep his head low. Like carbon under pressure, Akira defied all orders to conform and obey and became a diamond, each face shimmering with another self. He met every new circumstance with that shine. He became Leader of the Phantom Thieves, liberator of the collective unconscious, and Sumire’s senpai. No matter how grand of a hero he became, Akira always helped those who stood beside him. He deserved every bit of help Sumire could give him.

Akechi, born in circumstances to terrible for her to imagine, was buried in the ground and told to die. Like iron in heat, Akechi tempered and sharpened himself into a blade that cut through everything that held him back, the guilty and innocent alike. The problems he couldn’t solve with his knife of a heart, he studied and learned and practiced until he could convince people he held not a single ounce of malice. In spite of how the world couldn’t—shouldn’t—forgive him, Sumire wanted him to have peace.

And who was Sumire Yoshizawa?

Sumire, the less-loved twin, living in shadows so dark she thought the only way to escape them would be to steal the destiny of the one born in the light. Her grief and envy transformed into a twisted desire to lie and cheat her way to glory, pretending it was in order to give lovely Kasumi back to the world. Sumire felt freed from that self now, with Cendrillon's voice sounding so much like Kasumi's. She had put those cinders on herself when she had forgotten that someone loved her unconditionally. She refused to live in shame any longer. She refused to feel powerless.

Her feet continued to fly down the street, twisting and bending and spinning her into shapes she had never explored before. The diamond, the knife; the deceiver, the prisoner; the hero, the villain… Both of them striving with everything they had, each of them just as capable of using good and evil powers, just as capable of evil deeds as good ones…

And her, striving along with them. She didn’t need to be their ‘equal’ in brains, power, or achievement so long as she kept striving for glory.

She liked being Sumire Yoshizawa.

“Woo! You go, girl!”

Sumire’s dance broke as she remembered, right, she was still in the streets of Tokyo, where people could see her. The cat-caller was some flashy guy, with a woman walking next to him and laughing. Her face burned, but she managed to smile and bow to the pair. They waved and kept walking, entertained by her performance.

That performance gave her an idea.

* * *

Another day, another awakening before her alarm. _Might as well get going._

With another overnight bag packed, she cooked and ate her breakfast, wrote a thank-you note to her parents and taped it on the fridge. Traveling to Akechi's apartment gave her time to think. How was she going to bring this up? This was the third full day of the charm dawning, and Akechi had to be getting pretty sick of this, but maybe he was used to it too? Nevertheless, she had a smile on her face when she arrived at Akechi’s building.

The scene was almost identical to the one two mornings ago, except the water bottle hadn't moved and Akechi had tangled a blanket around himself this time. She sat and offered her hand just like before.

“Good morning, Akechi-san.”

He reached out with a twisted dragon’s claw of a hand and grasped her fingers. She watched a wave of relief shudder down his spine and smiled a little. A minute later, a hoarse whisper asked, “…Time?”

“A little past seven. I didn’t feel like trying to sleep more.”

“Mng.”

Sumire picked up the water bottle—still full—and one-handedly unscrewed the cap for him. Akechi recognized what she was doing and pushed himself into a sitting position to drink. His spine stayed twisted and bent.

“Would you like to try some stretches? That might help after sleeping in a weird position.”

Akechi’s mouth opened and closed again.

“If you think it’s insufferable that I’m taking care of you, imagine how this would have been if I were charmed and you were the target,” Sumire suggested. “You might have done something terrible to me, wouldn’t you?”

She saw Akechi’s eyebrows rise, even in the gloom. “Yoshizawa-san, did you get enough sleep?”

“Am I acting strange?”

“To a concerning degree.”

“I'm sorry about that. Let's focus on getting ready. Then we’ll pick up Senpai and plan our day.”

Akechi paused. “Those stretches would be quick, right?”

They were very quick. Sumire focused on column-aligners, basic stretches she used to make sure all her vertebrae stacked on top of each other correctly. After just five minutes of stretches, Sumire noticed improvements in Akechi's posture and less stiffness in his movements. Then, after a little more cleaning, the two of them left for Leblanc.

“I won’t buy you another breakfast,” Akechi announced.

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry if it seemed like I expected you to,” Sumire said. “Don’t worry, I ate at home.”

“Good, then.”

Sumire walked along a little more, knowing the station was close. She only had a little bit of time to bring up what she wanted, but the moment didn’t quite feel right yet. “Um… Akechi-san?”

“What?”

“When Senpai and I left you alone yesterday, we discussed Dr. Maruki’s false reality a bit. I think I have a clearer perspective on why you don’t want to accept this world. You want to stay ‘yourself’ no matter what, even if that person is… um…”

“And unstable, sociopathic assassin?”

“Your words, not mine!” Sumire said hastily.

“Hence, why I said them.”

“Right,” Sumire agreed, not sure if this conversation was going where she wanted. Still, there was this new… ease. She really appreciated the chance to talk like this. “You're a person who refuses to let go of the experiences that made you who you are. I think that's why you’re always so frustrated with me. I couldn’t bear to live as myself. The guilt was too much for me, and I let Dr. Maruki change me in order to run from my pain. So… naturally, you’d think I’m a weakling.”

“Are you—” The charm wouldn’t let Akechi finish that sentence. _Are you still a weakling?_

“…I’m not,” Sumire told him. “Because even if I am, a true weakling is someone who runs from reality. I’m better than that. _We’re_ better than that.”

Akechi didn’t respond. They arrived at the station entrance, and Sumire didn't know how to change the subject. Then, at the top of the stairs, he spoke.

“Please don’t confuse my impatience with you for the opinion that you should live like me,” Akechi said. The politeness in his tone allowed him to correct Sumire without the charm choking his words. “I don’t expect anyone to live like me.”

“Was it your only option? To live like you do?” Sumire asked.

Akechi looked down. “We need to retrieve Akira.”

As they boarded the train for Yongen-Jaya, Sumire held Akechi’s hand and checked her phone. Futaba seemed to be getting used to Akira’s stupid antics, so the night had far fewer overnight texts.

 **FUTABA.** Okay I played that guess-which-cup-has-the-ball game with Akira and you’re not going to believe this.  
 **MAKOTO.** Let me guess, you fooled him?  
 **FUTABA.** I did.  
 **FUTABA.** I was using transparent cups.  
 **MAKOTO.** Oh.  
 **MAKOTO.** That’s… sad.

That raised a question for Sumire. “Actually, Akechi-san… if you had been the target of my charm, what would I have been like when separated?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because you know me a lot better than before, and because you must have psychological profiling skills as a detective.”

He closed his eyes and smirked a little. “It seems rather obvious. Cendrillon.”

“My Persona? But my Persona is my strength.”

“She’s the heroine of a European fairy tale of the girl Ella, coated in cinders, who spent a magical night dancing at a ball. You know how terrible it feels to eek out an existence in the shadow of another. Separated from the charm, I believe you would beg and bargain all you had, just to spend a little more time in the light of the proverbial ball.”

Sumrie shivered. “That’s spooky.”

“I only did what you asked.”

“I know I did. It’s still spooky.” Sumire smiled to herself a little. “Then again, Cendrillon's ball had a prince. Maybe it’d be different, if a false prince like you was the target.”

Akechi opened and closed his mouth again, but he didn’t look frustrated. He looked halfway between curious and stunned.

The speakers announced their transfer station, so Sumire pulled on Akechi’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get to Leblanc. I have an idea to tell you and Senpai.”

Akechi refused to let her drag him along, but she smiled to herself, enjoying this feeling of excitement and pride. This might work. And even if it didn’t work, she placed trust that Akira and Akechi would be able to take her idea and _make_ it work.

In the attic of Leblanc, they found Akira, defeated by his blanket and a strategic chest-sit from Morgana to make sure he couldn’t walk around and get himself hurt. Sumire wrapped him in a hug and enjoyed the rise and fall of his breath.

She’d miss this, once it was over.

Once Akira sat up, they moved to the sofa so Sumire could sit between them for a strategy meeting, while Morgana sat on the desk.

“There’s still a chance the charm will last until Maruki’s deadline,” Akira started. “We at least need the infiltration route secure.”

“Well, on the way here, Yoshizawa-san implied to me that she had an idea…” Akechi looked at her, clearly now awaiting an explanation.

She straightened her shoulders, more confident than the last time she had addressed a number of people in a somewhat-leaderly role. "That shadow before the Treasure is only giving us trouble because some of us can't fight, and our existing moves aren't enough. I think we need to try out some kind of new, special move on it. If Akechi-san agrees to help, and Senpai is fine letting go for a minute... we might be able to punch through."

A silence filled the attic, tense but with an undercurrent of hope. If they just had a route to the Treasure, Akira and Akechi would both relax a lot more, and this inconvenient charm didn’t run the risk of ruining the world forever.

Plus, Sumire had a feeling she’d do whatever it took to keep Akira’s eyes on her. There were far worse ways to achieve that than dancing with Akechi.

“I’m okay with it,” Akira said at last.

“Can you go into more detail about what you had in mind?” Akechi asked.

* * *

Adrenaline coursed through her body, faster than it did even on competition days. The echoing of the cognitive hallways, the speed of the group running, and her hands locked firmly with Akechi and Akira all built to a sense of anticipation.

This might not even work. There had been strange looks on her friends’ faces when she told them about the new strategy. Maybe it was doubt, but she couldn’t focus on that. Just focus on the fight ahead. Focus on the energy making her feet fly.

They passed through the garden maze without trouble, solutions remembered and the path circuitous, but clear. The same shadow waited for them at the end.

“The time of salvation is almost at hand—I won’t let you interfere!” It declared, returning to the form of a soldier.

“Accuracy buffs on Crow!” Makoto's orders rang clearly in the air. “Then give it all you got!”

Sumire’s excitement turned to pins and needles as she watched her friends fight. Her eyes flitted around the fights, looking for openings, one hand tightly clenched on Akechi, her other hand looser around Akira. At a moment’s notice, she’d need to let him go.

There? No, not quite. After that hit? Not yet. She flinched as she saw her friends suffer the shadow’s retaliation, but she had to stay back… she had to wait… There? No. There? No—

Akechi spotted an opening first. He screamed for her.

“ _Now or never, Violet!_ ”

On instinct, she leapt with him…

_And_

_then_

_the_

_world_

_became_

_a_

_dream._

Her heart pounds. She's dancing with someone, her arms held high and stiff. It's a tango, with a prince—no, there’s no prince here. It’s just a boy in a mask as black as her own. With sharp movements, he snaps her from one pose to another, and she lets the movement flow through her. She translates his power into grace.

“Is that all you got?” he asks, he taunts.

Her eyes glide up. A the chandelier hangs above their ballroom, lights dancing on its arms.

“I have no reason to show you more,” she replies.

He snarls, and his grip on her wrist turns painful. She twists to face him and lets a scream out of her mouth. At the end of the ballroom, the doors blast open, and a red-armored shadow stalks in. No warrior could ignore the scream of a princess.

But there’s no princess here. It’s just a girl in mask as black as the boy's.

He directs his anger at the shadow, but responds by grasping tight on her wrist and pulling her to the back of the ballroom. There’s swords mounted on the back wall, to either side of a mess of ropes, the ones holding the curtains and chandelier aloft. As they run, he reaches for a sword, and she for a rope. Their hands pull and go taut, threatening to split.

He brandishes his chosen weapon at the shadow. “I’ll slaughter you like the rest!”

“Allow me!” she chooses a rope and pulls it close to him.

With a swing, his sword cuts the rope. Sandbags and mechanisms fail, and the rope launches into the air. She hangs tight, and just in time, his arms wrap around her. They soar into the rafters, euphoria and power filling her.

They reach their apex, landing on a beam high in the ceiling. The chandelier falls with a _crash_ on the shadow.

“You should know better! We're unstoppable!” he screams.

She fees a scream in her throat too, and she can’t stop it coming out. “The glory is ours! Never forget it!”

_And_

_Slowly_

_The_

_World_

…Returns.

And now, nothing stood between the Phantom Thieves and the final door but Sumire and Akechi.

Instantly, she wrapped Akechi in a hug, arms around his shoulders. He hugged her back, crushingly tight, and for a moment, her toes left the ground. Even in the Metaverse, Akechi smelled like wool and freshwater and shampoo.

“Holy _shit_ , you two kicked ass!”

The cheers of their teammates barely registered with Sumire: calls like “Breathtaking!” and “I can’t believe that worked!” and “Anyone’d look good dancing with Violet, come on.” She just focused on the sensation around her, not just of a deep embrace, but of success, of victory. She only pulled back when someone tapped her on the knee. She looked down and saw Morgana… who pointed over his shoulder. Sumire followed the gesture to see Makoto, with Akira leaning heavily on her.

_I forgot about Senpai!_

Sumire had never seen Akira look so dazzled. He looked between Sumire and Akechi so fast his eyes might just cross. She laughed and released Akechi’s shoulder just enough to reach toward Akira. He stumbled toward her like a newborn horse on ice, but once he drew close, Akechi’s arm caught him and wrapped him in their hug.

She could hear Akira laughing. She felt like she was laughing too. But she had to ask, “What did you think?”

“You want me to put it into _words_?” Akira asked in disbelief.

“Well, you’re not separated from me anymore, so you should be able to talk…”

“We've struck him dumb,” Akechi said, smug and satisfied.

“Completely,” Akira agreed. He leaned his head in closer to the hug. “I loved it.”

Sumire loved it, too. The only thing she loved more was the chance to hug the two of them, together. She doubted that any first-place trophy would ever feel as incredible as she felt in that moment.


	9. Now that it's over, I almost wish I had it back

After that performance, discovering the Treasure and deciding what to do about Maruki felt like an afterthought. Akira would give Maruki a calling card the day of his deadline. That day was coming soon, but it wasn’t here yet, and they were ready for it anyway. Sumire really didn’t care about forming the plan, just adding her power to the final fight. Her excitement bordered on giddiness. They won against the shadow, they’ll win against Maruki, and win against this charm as well!

They departed the Palace and said goodbyes to everyone, but the trio didn’t want to go home just yet. They overshot Akechi’s apartment in favor of Akira’s favorite booth in the Shibuya diner. Only two of them fit on a side, a conundrum that Akechi solved by assuming command. He pulled Sumire to one side and left Akira with one option: stretch his legs toward Sumire’s under the table. Akira gallantly stepped back and let Akechi hoard Sumire with only a few pointed comments about unfairness, which reeked of reverse psychology. While Sumire happily scooted flush to Akechi’s side, she rubbed her leg against Akira’s and covertly met his eyes. The victorious mood had Akechi preening _,_ a smirk fixed on his face as he glanced Sumire’s way with conspiratorial pride. Akechi thought he was some kind of king-of-the-world, proven greater than his rival and claiming primary contact with their charm’s target as his prize. In reality, he was doing exactly what Sumire and Akira wanted: _Akechi, be at ease._

Physically, their distance hadn’t changed at all, but Sumire felt she knew both of them better than she ever had. Assumptions of who was a hero and who was a villain had fallen away and left behind people. People she was close to.

People she wanted to _stay_ close to.

By the time they paid and left, Sumire felt nearly ready to sleep on her feet. Metaverse outings drained her, and the delighted adrenaline that had seen her through dinner finally ran out. She wanted nothing more than to lie down in Akechi’s apartment and cuddle her charm-mates like oversized stuffed animals.

“Play with my hair when we get there,” Akira requested on the train.

Sumire nodded and smiled. “Absolutely!”

“Hang on, do you seriously think you earned that kind of treatment? You didn’t do anything of worth today,” Akechi challenged.

“I held Sumire’s hand.”

“I held Yoshizawa-san's hand _and_ she and I eliminated the final obstacle between us and the Treasure. That’s two accomplishments for me.”

Sumire fought back giggles. She had no idea if Akechi was genuinely playing along or too tired to recognize that he was arguing on Akira’s terms.

“I’ll make it up to her,” Akira promised. “On Friday, I’ll defeat Maruki in one shot.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It won’t be if she plays with my hair tonight.”

“Hair-playing grants incredible power!” Sumire chimed in. “I’ll give it to you too, Akechi-san!”

“I asked first…” Akira pouted.

“I have two hands, don’t I?”

“Really? I never noticed.”

Akechi opened his mouth, but then scoffed and shook his head. “Hold on, this entire conversation is incredibly stupid.”

“You just noticed, Detective?” Akira asked with a smirk.

“Sounds like you want to pass on hair-playing,” Sumire said.

“I never said that.”

Finally, Sumire’s laughter grew too powerful to resist.

In Akechi’s apartment, they prepared for bed, but didn’t sleep just yet. Akechi played some music from his phone phone—an album recorded by Jazz Jin’s live singer—while the three of them settled in. Sumire leaned her back against the wall while Akira and Akechi took half her lap each. Her fingers combed through their hair: a thick mop on her right, a smooth bob on her left. Her sense of rhythm and dexterity even helped her keep up two unique patterns without getting confused and tangling up one boy’s hair.

Akechi had the most spirit for conversation out of the three of them, talking about how Metaverse combat that day had scratched an otherwise burning itch for exercise that had started to grow. Sumire told him about boxercising and her Coach’s high standards for strength and endurance alongside grace and flexibility. Akira mentioned his favorite budget gym off Central Street and how he sometimes did pull-ups in Leblanc’s sturdy rafters.

When the music ended, Sumire’s hair-pats had grown sluggish. Akechi found the will to leave Sumire’s lap first, but Akira followed quickly. They shut off lights, plugged in Sumire’s phone—dead again, oops—and laid down: Akira at her back, Akechi at her front. She felt cradled between them, treasured and safe.

She didn’t have time to think of anything else before she fell asleep.

* * *

Sumire woke in darkness to the sound of someone moving. A door opened and closed. Footsteps crossed the floor. She raised her head and squinted for signs of who was moving around. Blinking didn’t help, but she noticed she had more space in the bed. Only one person lay behind her. She reached around and managed to brush the top of his head with her fingers—short, curly. So that meant…

“Akechi-san?” she whispered.

“I’m here,” he answered from nearby. He took a few more steps, and then a small light sprung to life: the flashlight on his phone. Its light cast a gloom around his apartment. Akechi stood with a towel across his bare shoulders and his hair wet, clearly fresh out of a shower.

“The charm broke?” Sumire asked softly so she wouldn’t disturb Akira.

“At least for me. We won’t know until _he_ wakes up.” Akechi left his phone on the table and sat down in front of the bed. Sumire’s mostly-sideways face was level with his.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Over an hour. I just came back from a bike ride.”

“What time is it?”

He flipped his phone over to check. “Precisely four-thirteen AM.”

“You went for a bike ride at three in the morning?!”

“I needed space to think. Besides, it’s not like Maruki’s ideal world will allow the tragedy of a teenage biker stuck by a car. I was perfectly safe.”

Sumire glanced down at Akechi’s knees, shoving back the memory of a girl and a truck. “What did you think about?”

Akechi frowned. “You know, I’m capable of yelling at you for being intrusive again.”

“I can handle that.”

“Whether you can or can’t, I’m no longer under any compulsion to answer you either.”

“I know you better than I did four days ago. I want to keep getting to know you.”

“Are you being serious?”

“I am.”

“The rest of the Phantom Thieves only know me as well as they do because I told them my life story right before I tried to slaughter them. I was only honest about my history because I thought they’d all be dead. It was my second attempt to kill Akira specifically.” He paused, then added, “Now, I’ve tried to kill him three times in as many months.”

“When was the third?” Sumire asked, already nervous about the answer.

“After he punched me. I distinctly recall choking him with intent to kill.”

 _This conversation has already gotten away from me._ “Is all that violence why being on the team is… awkward for you?”

“One of several reasons.” Akechi took the towel and rubbed some of his hair. “I know I judged you harshly, and I remain convinced that I was correct to do so. You have incredible talent, but you were a novice, and you had no idea how dangerous that other world can be. I hope that’s not too complicated a position for you to understand.”

“Yes. It makes sense.” She supposed it was nice for Akechi to explain his strictness, but after going to bed last night so happily, his attitude change made the dawn feel cold.

“Still…” Akechi continued. “I think I appreciated that you were largely a stranger to me. You were aware of me as a Detective Prince, but I didn’t spend very long keeping up pretenses around you. And when you had opportunities to pry into my past, you didn’t. You are sincerely a person who wants what’s best for others, a trait that you retained in spite of your hardships. You never take assistance from those around you for granted either.”

Sumire felt herself start to smile. “Maybe we can be friends after all.”

Akechi hummed. “I just don’t see what the point would be that, especially this late in the game.”

She let her head fall against the pillow. “In our original reality, you’ll be sent back to juvenile detention, right? Since you turned yourself in to save Senpai…”

Akechi didn’t say anything.

“You want to return, even though you’re going to lose everything?”

“It’s the principle of it. If no one was going to leave this sickening dream of their own accord, then the responsibility fell to me to burn it to the ground. As if that wasn’t enough, I’m well aware that my purpose in Maruki’s reality is as someone else’s trophy. I’d prefer just about any fate over _that_.”

Sumire moved her hand to cover Akira’s, where it rested on her hip. He hadn’t stirred at all since Sumire woke up. In a whisper, she asked, “You don’t hate him for his wishes, do you?”

Akechi took a deep breath and sighed. “In spite of my best efforts, I’ve never truly hated him. Perhaps it’s time to finally accept that I can’t.”

Sumire could see more clearly the bind Akechi faced. She couldn’t get to the bottom of it without details, but the sacrifices he had made to pursue his goals were important to him. He didn’t want to become a person free from pain because that person would be as dull and worthless as he had been when charm-sick.

“I promise to visit you,” Sumire said. “And I’ll write you letters, with photos! Senpai is probably a really good cameraman. He’ll take photos of daily life and my gymnastics meets. I’ll take pictures of him too, even though they might not turn out as good.”

“And what would that pointless sentimentality accomplish?”

A few days ago, that cruel dismissal would have made Sumire cave. But she knew him better now. Akechi probably assumed that visits and letters to a prisoner were just another way of showing pity. The last few days had proven Sumire had the strength to correct him.

“Maybe it won’t accomplish anything. But it’s not pointless because _you’re_ not pointless.”

Sumire wiggled and freed her other hand to reach for Akechi. After a second, he took it. For some reason, she paid extra attention to the feeling of his hand. Coming out of a separation, Akechi’s movements had been too ragged for her to notice his hands’ texture, and in every other situation, he wore gloves. His hand was soft, but his grip was strong. In another life, he could have played piano.

She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. “I know it’s a pretty thin silver lining… but I know that I want you to stay part of my life. I’m not going to abandon you.”

He hesitated again. “You know that your wish will only hold meaning our original reality, right? If we stayed, Maruki would alter us. There’s no way the bond we’ve created will survive those changes.”

Sumire looked at the floor. “I suppose that’s right.”

“Can we make a deal, then?” Akechi asked. “If you show your courage to the team and steal our original reality without looking back, then I promise to reply to every single letter you send.”

Sumire felt her face smile, even if the rest of her emotions tumbled about inside her. A letter from Akechi every few weeks, short and unsatisfying because there was only so much he could write about from prison, and nothing but rare visits and his memory to give her strength? Would that actually be better than accepting Maruki’s reality, even if Sumire and the True Akechi died?

“Do you agree?” Akechi pressed. “Sumire-san?”

He spoke her name with such reverence that the choice turned crystal-clear. “Absolutely. We’re going back, no matter what it takes.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

With a squeeze of her hand, he let go. Then he turned his phone flashlight off and found a less obtrusive book light, sitting in a corner to read until morning. With a warm glow in her heart, she rolled to face Akira and snuggled close. His steady breathing lulled her back to sleep.

On Saturday, Sumire will learn that Akechi had lied. But, she’ll know what Akira had meant. Akechi’s lies truly were beautiful.

* * *

Before that, Tuesday morning came. The smell of breakfast woke Sumire, this time for good. She reached up to comb her fingers through Akira’s hair a little more, treating herself to the sight of his clear gray eyes blink open.

“Good morning, Senpai,” she greeted.

“Morning,” he replied. Then he froze and furrowed his brow, noticing something missing.

“Akechi-san’s charm broke in the night,” Sumire told him. _Wait, can I call him Goro-san? I forgot to ask…_

Akira raised his chest up as high as he could go to look over Sumire at the apartment. She turned to see Akechi in the kitchen, stirring some rice porridge alongside eggs in a frypan.

“Once you’re done eating, you both need to get out of my apartment,” Akechi announced with conviction.

Sumire turned to Akira. “Has the charm broken for you, too?”

Akira looked at his hand resting on Sumire’s shoulder. Then he shook his head. She supposed he could sense the compulsion to stay close to her.

“I’m sorry, Senpai.”

“Don’t be,” he said, reaching up to smooth her hair. “You were right. Concentrated healing shortened Akechi’s charm.”

“How long would you like to spend congratulating her? Because there _must_ be better uses of your time and mine than lying there on meaningless laurels. Eat, and get out of my room.”

Akira sighed and mumbled with a little regret, “Just everyday Akechi…”

Sumire smiled. “Well, ‘fishnets’ are only special if they’re rare.”

That made Akira laugh, and he drew Sumire closer for a deep, warm hug.

“Would you prefer I throw your breakfast in the garbage?” Akechi interrupted. “Stop lying there tittering over strange inside jokes and be grateful that I’ve cooked for you at all.”

Akira finally stretched his arms—one at a time—and then sat up with Sumire. Akechi served them, a sensible portion for Akira and a triple-sized one for Sumire. He still refused to watch her eat, but that didn’t really embarrass her anymore. Akechi was just a fastidious person in his daily life, and at least he met her halfway by cooking enough for her stomach.

During breakfast, Akira’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the message and frowned a little. “My teacher can’t cover for us much longer.”

“How much longer?” Sumire asked.

“She phrased it, ‘when are you coming back?’ So, not much.”

“If you lose her support now, everything else she’s done will have been in vain,” Akechi assessed. “Yoshizawa-san’s teacher will tell her parents that she’s been missing class, and she’ll face punishments that may separate her from you further—or worse, prevent her from fighting Maruki on Friday.”

“How much did the healing shorten Akechi-san’s charm by?” Sumire wondered aloud, admittedly more focused on how Akechi used her last name again. _Maybe he doesn’t want to show familiarity until after we steal back our reality._

“We can’t calculate that until we know the charm’s full duration,” Akechi stated.

“If you spent lunch with me, I could make it through a day,” Akira said.

“You think your behavior won’t be noticed?” Akechi asked.

“I’ll be noticed, but there’s ordinary explanations for it. Takemi thought I had a concussion.”

“You could wear a face mask as well!” Sumire suggested.

Akira’s eyebrows rose. Akechi nodded. “I have one I can give you, for authenticity’s sake. And since Maruki’s infiltration route is secure, your teammates can expend all their energy from today until the day of our battle shortening your charm.”

Sumire felt smile break out on her face. “We’ll take care of you, Senpai!”

“Or something to that effect,” Akechi added.

Akira smiled back, warmth in his stormy eyes.

* * *

Shujin’s gates never seemed so imposing before. Her empty left hand swung by her side as her right stayed connected to Akira. She supposed the gossip mill was going to have a field day with the two of them arriving at school hand-in-hand.

Well, they could assume whatever they wanted.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Sumire asked.

Akira nodded and flashed her a peace sign.

They passed in through the gates. Classes would begin in just a few minutes, so they could put off Sumire separating until the last second. The plan was for Ann to get Akira to his seat, and for Sumire to return the instant the lunch bell rang, and repeat for the end of the school day. They paced around the halls as unobtrusively as possible, leeching every second they could together until the bells demanded they part.

_Ping. Ping. Ping._

They rushed to class 2-D, where Ann peeked around the corner of the door and took hold of Akira like he was a passed baton. She tugged him inside—Sumire caught a final glimpse of his sad gray eyes—and slid the door shut. Now Sumire had to sprint up the stairs to her own classroom before any teachers got angry at her.

The morning lessons passed… fine. Just being back at her desk, surrounded by classmates, helped her absorb at least a little bit more of the material than when she had been studying on Sunday morning. Her mind pulled every so often to the lingering charm—was Akira doing fine in his classroom? Were Ann and his teacher covering for him?—but she kept her pen moving by doodling Personas in the margins of her notebook, and usually managed to re-focus on the lecture.

Finally, bells pinged to announce the afternoon. Abandoning all her belongings, Sumire sprinted to the door, whirled down the stairwell, and barreled toward the 2-D classroom door. Some students were spilling out into the hallway, so she skidded slower to avoid running into them.

Ann emerged from the classroom and pointed back the way Sumire had come. “Nope! Nurse’s office!”

“What?! Is he alright?”

“I tried to text you, but whatever—just go! Nurse’s office!”

Sumire turned on her heel and took off again, dodging between more students as the halls filled up. Some people noticed her speed moved out of the way while others obliviously stood in her path. The lunch hour already felt like a timer ticking away. She’d only have so much time to help Akira at this rate…

In the nurse’s office, Sumire heard Akira voice, strained into a pathetic whine. “Moonshima, I lost my books. I don’t have my books or burgers. They’ve ababombed me.”

“Um, you could borrow my books?” a boy’s voice responded.

“No, it’s the _other_ books,” Akira rambled. “The _past_ -books. And the bar, and the baths?! My baths are _gone_! Borgs and barths and barks and burrs, all of it…”

Sumire popped around the screen guard. Akira occupied the bed, and the chair near the bed had another student in it. She had a hard time placing where she had seen him before, but he had to be a friend of Akira’s. He looked to Sumire with a little bit of surprise.

“You’re that transfer first-year. The gymnast, right?” he asked as an introduction. Akira’s head lolled to the side and he reached his arms out. Thankfully there was nothing nearby for him to knock over.

“Y-Yes. My name is Yoshizawa. If I could just…” She pointed to his chair.

“Oh. Sure?” The boy stood up for her, but with a questioning look.

She had no idea how this guy would react, seeing her touch change Akira from a graceless buffoon to his usual talented and charming self. Still, she trusted Akira to help her work out how best to explain this, and leaving him without charm for a single second longer would be cruel. Sitting down in the chair, her hand connected with Akira’s. He took a deep breath and immediately let it out in a satisfied sigh.

“Hey, what’s going on?” the boy asked. “I didn’t know you and Kurusu were that close.”

“It’s a temporary arrangement,” Akira responded quickly. “Thanks for helping out, Mishima. I owe you a yakisoba pan.”

The boy—Mishima—blinked. “Hang on, you’re okay now?”

“Yep.”

“But what happened? Five second ago, you were rambling like a crazy person. And a guy who can dodge Ushimaru’s chalk strike of death shouldn’t be tripping over his own shoes!”

 _What should I do?_ She didn’t know enough about Akira’s relationship with his classmate to see what kind of story he would accept. He obviously cared about Akira a lot, just like… well, everyone else that Sumire knew.

Akira pulled himself into a sitting position. “A few days ago, my heart got stolen. Sumire is lending me hers.”

Sumire froze while Akira lifted their entwined hands to emphasize the heart-lending. Why was _that_ what he decided to say? Sharp and eloquent as her Senpai was, why would he reference Phantom Thief work in front of a classmate?!

Mishima looked stunned, but he nodded. “R-Right. Okay. I guess if your heart is gone, you can’t act normal… Um, you’ve got a plan to get it back, right?”

“In motion. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Who stole it? They’re obviously an enemy who needs to face justice!”

“Already a target.”

“Oh! So stealing _your_ heart was that guy’s idea of a counterattack!” Mishima said excitedly. “But he’s not going to get away with it—the Phantom Thieves have overcome way worse than this!”

“That’s the spirit,” Akira agreed. “Sumire can take care of me during lunch. See you back in class?”

Mishima waved and left the nurse’s office in high spirits. Sumire let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Senpai, is it okay that you explained the situation so fully to him?”

“He runs the Phan-site.”

“So that’s how he already knew about… things?”

“Yep.”

“And you trust him?”

“His best trait is his loyalty.”

Sumire finally let herself fully relax. “Now that’s out of the way, can we eat?”

Ann brought Akira’s packed lunch, and after a quick stop at Sumire’s classroom, the Shujin Thieves gathered on the rooftop. The air was still pretty chilly, and Haru mostly preoccupied herself packing burlap and white anti-frost cloth around her precious plants. Still, it was nice to gather a whole group of friends to have lunch.

“You seriously got sent to the nurse’s office?” Ryuji asked, concern and disbelief mixed up in his voice.

“I’ve got ‘can’t catch a break’ disease,” Akira told him.

A few abandoned chairs looked like they would make a good place to sit. Sumire set her lunch down and prepared to sit—

—But Akira slid into the seat first. Still holding her hand, but now occupying the chair and looking up at her through his bangs and glasses.

Okay. Okay, she could sit nearby… but practically the moment she glanced at another chair, Akira shifted and stole that one too, quick as when he ambushed shadows. A smirk grew on his lips.

“You have no intention of letting me sit alone, do you?”

Akira’s smile grew a little wider. He shrugged Sumire’s hand down to his wrist for a second and threaded his fingers together. _One-step-past full body contact._

Sumire couldn’t fight back a smile herself. “If I sit there, you can’t get mad at me if I drop rice in your hair, okay?”

“Deal.”

She sighed and balanced herself on Akira’s lap. He ignored his own lunch in favor of wrapping her up in a hug and leaning his head against her shoulder. The pose pretty much copied the hug he had given her right after the charm started, and he tried to cuddle Sumire and participate in a team strategy meeting at the same time. She wasn’t kidding about getting food in Akira’s hair either. She had almost no margin of error between her mouth and Akira’s head.

Ann and Makoto had a laugh about Akira and Sumire’s predicament. Ryuji got it in his head to start complaining about how it wasn’t fair Akira got to be covered in girls twice, to be swiftly corrected by the other girls about how terrible the charm is to suffer and how inept Ryuji would be at managing more than a single person, let alone a girl.

“I’m also only _one_ girl,” Sumire chimed in, like that helped any.

“One’s better than none! This seriously proves Maruki knows nothing about our effin’ desires.” Ryuji leaned on the back two legs of his chair. “Why didn’t he think to give us girlfriends or boyfriends, huh? Would’a made his world look a lot better!”

“Are you seriously admitting you’d stay in Dr. Maruki’s world just so you could go on _dates_?” Ann asked, offended.

“And you sound _proud_ of that fact,” Makoto added. Her voice dipped into that chilly, ‘you better not have failed your exams’ tone of the Student Council President.

“Every mistake of Maruki’s is a boon for us,” Akira commented. Sumire supposed it was his duty as leader to be diplomatic. She was pretty sure Ryuji only blustered like that due to frustration, not genuine desire.

Sumire finished her food with only a few rice grains lost in Akira’s mop of hair, which she did her best to brush out. He even ate his own lunch, his box balanced on Sumire’s legs while he took bites and slowly savored them. The sense of ‘rightness’ in her felt like getting ready to go on a trip. She was happy, but not only about where she was, but where she was going.

Makoto checked her phone for the time. “Okay, we’ve got about five minutes before the bell rings. Don’t be late on your way back to class, okay?”

“Thanks, Makoto!” Ann chirped.

Sumire reached for pieces of her lunchbox. Before she could stand, Akira threaded one arm under her legs and the other behind her back. Once again, he _lifted_ , and Sumire squeaked as he moved her off of his lap and onto one of the desks.

And then he stepped back.

“This has been a lot of fun,” he told the group, his first full-sentence without being in contact with Sumire in days. “I might keep up the act in class just so teachers don’t call on me. Not sure yet.”

“The charm broke!” Haru gasped.

“When!?” Sumire demanded.

“Twenty minutes ago,” Akira told her with a wink.

He waved to the rest of the group and headed for the door, but Sumire wasn’t finished with him. Fueled on by indignation that Akira had _lied_ like that, she chased him down into the little landing at the top of the stairs.

“That was a mean trick,” Sumire accused, her face hot.

“No meaner than when you pinned me down and dragged the truth about my self and my wish out of me,” Akira shot back.

“Wait, are you mad about that? I knew I crossed a line but I thought—”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not mad. Just still shocked. I hadn't thought you were capable of something like that.”

She fidgeted a little, kicking the floor lightly. “I mean, I didn’t physically pin you?”

“That’s a relief.” Akira smiled a little bit. “When I was the target of the other charm, I felt like I had learned something about how much everyone meant to me. Is that true for you, too?”

The heat on her face deepened. “Yes. It absolutely is.”

He stepped close and wrapped his arms around her one more time: no compulsion, no charm, just affection from someone who mattered to her. She hugged him back tight and breathed the scent of coffee. 

The door to the roof creaked as the others headed back to class, so Sumire and Akira separated and started down the stairs. Back in her classroom, she settled at her desk and looked at her notebook. She had doodled Personas in the margin: Akira’s, Akira’s, Akira’s, easily a half-dozen magical monsters she knew the forms of but not the names, each one of them a piece of her Senpai’s whole. Then closer to the center: Cendrillon, and next to her, Loki.

She folded the corner down on that page so she could find it again. Then with a smile, she sat down and looked forward, ready to face the future.


End file.
